Child's Eyes
by Night-Mare-Chan
Summary: Growing up through a young boy's eyes. The trials of becoming a hero.
1. The Song of Clouds

~Child's Eyes~  
  
  
  
It was a sunny day. High above the clouds made funny shapes as they crossed the air. He reached up, stretching his hand high, wishing he could catch one. He wondered if clouds tasted like cotton candy. Daddy looked down at him and smiled, then fixed his gaze to the sky.  
  
"What's up there Hikari?" he asked.   
  
"Clouds!" Hikari said happily. Daddy laughed.  
  
"Yes. Many clouds. Would you like to get a closer look?"   
  
Hikari nodded. Suddenly warm strong hands were around his waist and he was sitting on Daddy' s shoulders. The boy buried his hands into his father's warm brown hair and tossed his head back to let the sun shine on it. It was sooo pretty. Even if they weren't real clouds. At least, Daddy always said they weren't. Hikari didn't understand how they weren't real if he could see them. But Daddy was a grownup so Daddy knew everything.   
  
"Why aren't the clouds real Daddy? I forgot." Hikari asked, looking down. Daddy started walking; Hikari liked the little bounce as his feet hit the ground.   
  
"They are real. They're not natural."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because they're manmade. That means that people made them."   
  
"You made them. Right Daddy?" Hikari asked. Daddy chuckled, patting Hikari's knee gently.  
  
"Yes I did. I help. But you know, son, there are some clouds that are natural."  
  
"Liiike… that one?" Hikari asked pointing to a big fluffy rabbit shaped one.   
  
"No. There aren't any here. They're all on Earth."  
  
"Earth?"  
  
"The big blue and brown ball we see in the sky at night. Can you remember what we live in? What it's called?"  
  
"A…a…baloney?" he asked. Daddy laughed, his shoulders moving up and down. Hikari giggled. He didn't know what he had said, but making grownups laugh was fun.   
  
"That's very close. Colony. Col…o…ny."  
  
"Col…o…ny," Hikari said, carefully mimicking his father's voice.  
  
"Very good," Daddy said. Hikari beamed. Very good. He had done very good! Hikari fell silent again as he played with the strands in Daddy's hair. Daddy walked down a long flight of white steps to the white square where the fish fountain was. Hikari squealed and pointed as the water glittered.  
  
"Lookit Daddy! Lookit! It's shining! Are they fairies?"   
  
"Yes. Sun fairies. They travel on sunbeams and love to play in water. Just like you." Daddy gave his leg a squeeze. Hikari gripped his father's hair and pulled himself up a little.  
  
"Can I catch one Daddy? Huh? Can I?"   
  
"Noooo."   
  
"But Daaaaddyyy!" Hikari whined. He wanted to catch a light fairy to put by Mommy's rock. He usually only put flowers but wouldn't Mommy love a light fairy!   
  
"Do you remember what today is? What special day?" Daddy asked. Hikari thought. Daddy told him hours and hours ago. He wrinkled his nose as Daddy passed the fish fountain and watched it disappear as Daddy walked up another flight of steps. When the fountain disappeared, he leaned his chin on his father's head.  
  
"Isss iiit. Monday?"  
  
"Nooo," Daddy said with a little laugh. "It's Wednesday…and it's your birthday. Can you remember how old you are today?"  
  
"This many!" Hikari crowed, thrusting out three fingers. One. Two. Three. Not every one could count to three.  
  
"Four," Daddy said, lifting Hikari's little finger. "See? One. Two. Three. Four."  
  
"I thought I was three!" Hikari said. He didn't understand. He'd always been three.  
  
"You were three. Don't you remember last year? When Nanny and Booboo came to see you and gave you Mr. Brown."   
  
"Ohhh!" Hikari said, as the image of a big stuffed teddy bear flashed in his mind. He suddenly remembered seeing hazy faces, all droopy and silver haired, handing the big toy to him. He couldn't remember Nanny and Booboo…but Daddy talked about them a lot and Hikari had talked to them over the phone. Then he remembered. Birthdays! He got stuff on birthdays! Hikari bounced on his father's shoulders, suddenly excited.   
  
"Nanny and Booboo will be there too. They're probably all ready back at the apartment."  
  
"Will they give me stuff?" Hikari asked.   
  
"Maybe. We'll just have to see won't we?"   
  
Before going back home, they stopped by Mommy's rock. Daddy set him down and kneeled in front of the rock, clasping his hands. Hikari picked a pretty yellow dandelion growing out of the sidewalk. He placed it in front of Mommy's rock, kneeled and folded his hands like Daddy was doing. Pretty soon he got bored.   
  
"Daddy can we go now?" he asked.  
  
"In a minute Hikari. Just be patient," Daddy said. Hikari sighed and got to his feet. He didn't like the word patient. It meant that he had to stand around doing nothing while Daddy did grownup things. There were lots of rocks here. Daddy said that people were under them. Hikari wrinkled his nose. He didn't think it would be very fun to live under a rock.  
  
Suddenly something bright flashed in front of his eyes. Hikari gasped. A fairy! It had to be! It had a little black body and curved wings like he'd seen in picture books. The fairy landed on a flower and fluttered its wings. Hikari reached for it. The fairy fluttered from his grasp. Hikari giggled and chased after it, waving his hands and jumping the air trying to catch it. Suddenly he slammed into something and fell on his rear. There was a click and when Hikari opened his eyes he found himself staring at a man holding something long and black. Hikari blinked and looked up. The man's face was covered in shadows.   
  
"Calm down man. He's just a kid," said another man. Hikari stood to take a closer look at the long black thing, but the man put it away in his jacket. Hikari frowned. Heeeyyy.   
  
"What are you doing out here kid?" the man with the black thing asked.  
  
"I'm with my Daddy. Who are you?"  
  
"No one you want to get involved with," the man said. Hikari clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the towering figure.   
  
"What's…involved mean?"  
  
"It's not for kids like you to understand," the second man said. "Now beat it!"   
  
"But…" His words were cut off by a strong hand grabbing his wrist.  
  
"Hikari!" Daddy snapped. Hikari flinched. Uh-oh. Angry voice. That meant he was in trouble.   
  
"You shouldn't let your kid wander around like that," the man with the black thing said.   
  
"Yeah. He could get hurt," the second man said. The way he said 'hurt' sounded funny. Like being hurt was a good thing. Suddenly all Hikari could see was Daddy's blue shirt as he was picked up. He peered around his father's arm and stared at the two men. The sun made it so he couldn't see them very well…but he could hear their voices.  
  
"So you want me to take out the whole thing?" the man with the black thing said.  
  
"The only way to kill a rat is to destroy its nest. Wouldn't you agree?" the other man said.  
  
"What if he's the only rat in the nest?"   
  
"Look. I have a problem. I want you to do a little extermination. D'you want the money or not?" Their voices faded into the distance. Suddenly Hikari remembered he was in trouble. He looked up. Daddy's mouth was set in a straight line and there was a little wrinkle between his eyebrows.   
  
"Are you mad at me?" Hikari asked. Daddy glanced down at him and frowned. Uh-oh.   
  
"You ran off again Hikari. How many times do I have to tell you to stay with me? I might lose you… and I don't want that to happen." Daddy hugged him close. Hikari snuggled closer. Daddy was like a big blanket that made his insides warm too.   
  
"I love you Daddy," he said.  
  
"I love you too."   
  
By the time they got to the building and rode the elevator all the way up to the tenth floor, Hikari had forgotten all about the men. As soon as the doors wooshed open, Hikari grabbed his Daddy's hand and led him to their door. He was so proud he remembered it. They lived behind door number one two three. As soon as Daddy unlocked the door, Hikari was enveloped in the strong arms of his Booboo.   
  
"How's my little man?" Booboo asked, tossing him up toward the ceiling. Hikari shrieked with laughter.   
  
"Don't do that!" Nanna said with a gasp.  
  
"Ahhh. Don't worry. Hikari likes it. Dontcha Hikari?"  
  
"Yeahhh! Do it again! Do it again!" Booboo did it a few more times but stopped all too soon as grownups often did. Hikari's disappointment was short lived however when Daddy brought out a huge chocolate cake with candles on it. After the cake there was ice cream and then soda and chips. Then it was time for presents. This year Nanna and Booboo had bought him a fire truck. Hikari raced it around the kitchen, making siren noises. Daddy let him do it for a long time before stopping him. Then Hikari was forcefully plunked on the couch and turned on the TV where he watched three brand new tapes of Magical Plushy Island. Not soon after, it was bed time.   
  
"But I'm not sleepy!" Hikari said as he was being tucked into bed. Booboo was doing it this time because it was special. Booboo smiled, the lines around his eyes deepening.  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"No I'm not!" Hikari said, folding his arms tightly across his chest. Why did grownups always insist he was sleepy when he wasn't? He wanted to watch Magical Plushy Island again and play with his fire truck and maybe even watch grownup TV like Daddy did.   
  
"Would you like a story?" Booboo said. Hikari nodded. Maybe if he was still awake after the story, Booboo would let him stay up. He curled up to Mr. Brown and closed his eyes to listen.  
  
"Once upon a time…in a kingdom far far away…" as Booboo continued Hikari drifted off into the realm of warm sleep.  
  
Clouds. So many. All above him. A whole bunch of rabbits bouncing across a blue sky.  
  
'Clouds! Clouds Daddy!'   
  
'Yes. Lots and lots of clouds'   
  
'Can I touch one Daddy?'   
  
'Try.'   
  
Hikari reached up. The cloud felt fluffy in his hand. Like cotton. He rubbed his face in the softness. The cloud escaped from his hand a turned into a fairy. Hikari laughed as he tried to catch it. The stones were all around them stretching out onto forever.   
  
'Hikari!' Daddy called. Hikari turned and saw his father standing in the distance. 'Come here! Hikari!' Hikari ran to him. Daddy was laughing, holding his arms open wide. Hikari spread his arms wide.   
  
BOOOOOOOOMMM!!   
  
Hikari screamed and sat up, his heart slamming in his chest. That noise had been so loud and so scary! It was dark! He couldn't see! His bed started shaking. Like there was a monster trying to get out. Something beside him crashed loudly.   
  
"Daddy!" Hikari screamed. "Daaaaddyy!!" The door flung open but no warm light came in. Instead Daddy snatched him up, roughly and ran from the room. There were crashing sounds everywhere and screaming and thunder seemed to rumble through the floor. Hikari was too scared to scream. Daddy stumbled to the door, flinging it open with a word that Hikari had never heard before.   
  
There were people in the hall. Screaming. Hikari clung to his father's neck.   
  
"Get out of my way!" Daddy screamed. "Get the hell out of my way you bastards!! I have a child!!" They were running again. Something slammed and over his father's shoulder, Hikari could see steps flying past. Down and down they went. Suddenly Daddy stopped.  
  
"It's blocked!! There's no way out!!" someone screamed. "Oh God we're all gonna die!!" Daddy started running again. Hikari buried his face in his father's shoulder. Make it go away Daddy! He thought. It's scary! Make it go awayy!  
  
Daddy stumbled and the thunder crashed again. It was so close this time. Daddy was running even faster. He was almost flying. Then he stopped. Hikari could hear his heart beating like a wild drum. Daddy let go of him with one and there was the groaning of wood. The thundering was getting louder.  
  
"Comon'!! Comon' damn you!!" Daddy yelled. There was a cracking sound. Then Daddy held him up with both hands. Hikari looked down into his Daddy's face. Tears were running down his cheeks.   
  
"Fly my baby. Fly…" Daddy said, his voice shaking. The next thing Hikari saw was a window… and suddenly he was flying. Flying in the open air. The ground so far below. High above in the night sky were dark clouds. Clouds….  
  
'Fly my baby…' Hikari reached for a cloud. If he caught it he could fly. Then there was a loud roar and sharp hurt…then nothing.   
  
----  
  
Notes: Rather an abrupt ending isn't it? ^^:   
  
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Tho if I did I would have Sandrock. MINE ALL MINE! Eheheheheh.  
  
Quatre. *piku piku* Oookaaayyy. 


	2. Embracing Death

He was lost. Everything was gray. Big gray flakes swirled down from the sky and piled up on the ground. He limped through it. It hurt to walk and there was something itchy trailing down his face. The air stung his eyes and it was hard to breathe. He had to walk though. He had to find something. Something…

          There was a big pile of rocks nearby. Huge rocks…all tumbled down. This wasn't home. Where was home?  He had to find it. It would be safe there. Someone could look after his booboos. But home didn't seem to be anywhere. It was just gray and choking. He coughed, making his head hurt. Where was home? 

          Suddenly the sound of footsteps broke through the quiet. He stopped, standing where he was. Someone started to come out of the gray. Had someone come to get him? Was he going home now? Slowly the shape of a grown up came out of the gray. As it came closer, he saw it was a man. When the man saw him, surprise lifted his face. The man came over to him and kneeled so that their eyes met.

          "You survived kid? You're one amazing little brat," the man said. The boy stared at him. _Will you save me? _He thought. _Will you take me home? Will you keep me safe? _But he couldn't ask. His mouth wouldn't move. All he could do was stand there and look at the grown up who was supposed to save him. The man reached in his coat and pulled out a black thing. He pressed the thing to the boy's forehead.

          "You probably won't live long though. Would you like me to put you out of your misery?" 

          Misery? What did that mean? The man stood, pulling the black thing back but still keeping pointed at him. There was a click followed by a loud bang. Something whistled by the boy's ear and thudded into the ground behind him. It happened so fast that he didn't even have time to be sacred. 

          "You didn't even flinch. You're not normal," the man said. _Take me home, the boy thought, opening his arms. _Take me home. You're a grow up. You're supposed to take care of me. __

          The man laughed. It wasn't a very happy sound. It was like he would rather yell…but couldn't. 

          "Embracing your death huh?" the man asked. For a long while the man stared at him. The boy swayed slightly, wanting to lie down in the soft gray stuff that covered the street. But something wouldn't let him. Something kept him standing there, arms open, waiting.  After a while, the man shrugged.

          "Fine. They always said I should start training a protégé. I guess you're as good as any." 

          The man picked him up. The boy sighed and snuggled closer. He was safe. He was hurting all over but a grownup was taking care of him now. A grownup would make him all better. In a little while, he had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

***

          A strange humming woke the boy up. Humming and the sounds of people talking quietly. His seat was vibrating softly like it did when he rode the bus. The boy opened his eyes and blinked as he saw the man sitting next to him. The man had short yellow hair. The boy frowned. That wasn't right. He should have brown hair. Dark brown hair like the color of dirt in the playground. The man looked down at him and a smile that wasn't a smile played over his features.

          "Finally awake? You've been out for a while." 

          The boy sat up, whimpering as his arm started hurting. He realized it was wrapped up in a cloth that came up and tied behind his neck. There was another cloth wrapped around his leg. The boy reached up and felt the rough material on his forehead as well. 

          "You should take it easy kid. You've been banged up pretty badly," the man said. The boy glanced at him, then out the window. He gasped at what he saw. Stars! Lots and lots of stars! He leaned closer to the window to get a better look. Was it nighttime? He'd never been able to stay up to see this many stars! A big black thing was floating out there too. 

          "What's that?" the boy asked, pointing.

          "That's the L-1 colony. Where you come from," the man said. 

          "Col…o…ny…" the boy echoed. Someone else had told him about colonies. Someone long ago and far away. Someone with brown hair that was warm with sunshine and laughter. But he couldn't remember who it had been. A woman's voice distracted him.

          "Awww…and what happened to this little fella?" she asked. The boy looked over at her.

          "Ahh. Young scamp was climbing a tree and fell. Turn your back for one second-," the man said, putting a hand on the boy's head and smiling. 

          "What's your name? Hm?" the woman asked. The boy stared at her. His name… All people had names. The laughing, brown-haired man called him a name…but…he didn't know what it was.

          "He's a little shy," the man said after a moment. The woman smiled. 

          "Well that's okay. Here, I have something for you. Hold out your hand," the woman said. The boy obeyed. The woman gave him something shiny. It was a pin in the shape of a spaceship. The boy turned it over and over in his fingers, watching the light reflect off its silvery surface. 

          "Well, can I get you guys anything? Orange juice? Peanuts?" the woman asked.

          "No thanks," the man said. The woman nodded and walked away, pulling a little cart behind her.  The boy turned his gaze back out the window. The colony was slowly fading from sight. Everything was all wrong. This didn't feel like a bus…and he had never seen a bus with round windows. 

          "Where are we going?" the boy asked, keeping his eyes on the stars. 

          "Earth." 

          "Then are we going home? I want to go home."  
          "You have no home anymore kiddo," the man said. The boy looked at him confused. How could he not have a home anymore? It didn't make sense. 

          "It's gone. Boom. Destroyed," the man said. 

          _'Daddy! Daaaddyyy!' 'I have a child you bastards!' 'Fly my baby.'_

The boy looked down at the pin. Fear making a lump in his throat. The voices were scary. He didn't want to hear them. He didn't want to remember. 

          "All your family is probably dead. There's nothing to go home to," the man said. Dead… That meant that they were living under rocks now. Maybe he could give a fairy to them sometime. Daddy would like a fairy… 

          "So anyway, kid… What's your name? I'm Odin. Odin Lowe. But you can call me whatever you want. I don't care," the man said. He didn't know. Everyone was supposed to have a name… But he didn't know what his was. He didn't want to tell the man that he didn't know. Everybody had a name and if he didn't have one he wasn't anybody. Maybe…maybe the man would give him a name.

          "Call me whatever you want," the boy said. The man grunted. 

          "You don't want to tell me, that's fine. It's just going to make things more difficult. That's all. Oh yeah…and by the way, if things don't work out…" The man put put his pointer finger on the boy's temple. "Bang," he said, pitching his voice. Low. Then, louder:

"You understand?"

          The boy stared at him. No. He didn't understand. He didn't understand anything. Everything was suddenly so different and he still felt like he was lost. The man laughed. Again it was a sound that didn't seem like it was meant to be happy.

          "I forgot. You aren't scared of that are you? Well…you'll either be very good at what I teach you or turn into a lunatic. Might be fun to see which way it goes hm?" 

          The boy looked back at the stars. There was nothing but stars now. Like salt on a black tablecloth. There weren't any clouds here though. So if he fell…there would be nothing to catch him. 

----

Notes: Aaahg. It's so _hard to write from a four-year-old's viewpoint.   He has no name but it's _not _Trowa! I repeat: it is __not cyclops boy. _

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be rich. As I am broke… fill in the blank. 

Night~Mare


	3. Talent

                The boy wrapped the warm, scratchy blanket tightly around his shoulders and watched the fairies dance in the fire. Odin was cooking something that smelled really good. They were on earth now. He liked earth. The clouds were real here. Odin put whatever he was making in the bowl and handed it to the boy. 

          "Be careful kid. It's hot," he said. The boy looked from the steaming bowl, to him.

          "Aren't you going to blow on it?" 

          "Blow on it yourself. You've got a mouth," Odin said. The boy frowned, taking the warm bowl in both his hands. That wasn't fair. Daddy always blowed on things to cool it. Odin was mean. He blew on it himself, watching the steam twirl away into the cold air. When he to drink it, the soup burned his tongue. The boy yelped and dropped the bowl, sending the soup flying everywhere. Odin jumped up as some of it spilled on his leg.

          "Hey! Watch it! What did you do that for?!"

          "I burnt my tongue!" the boy said. The man stared at him, one yellow eyebrow raised.

          "Get used to pain kid. It's a part of life."

          The boy looked down at the ground, tears springing to his eyes. That wasn't what he was supposed to say. He was _supposed to say how terrible it was that the boy had burnt his tongue. How he was so _sorry _he didn't blow on the soup to make it safe to drink. The grownup wasn't acting right at all. He didn't even take the bus, just walked for ever and ever. When the boy got tired, Odin told him to keep moving because getting tired was a fact of life. He hated the facts of life. _

          His thoughts were cut off when Odin refilled his bowl.

          "You drop this one and you're out of luck," he said. The boy took it, liking how it warmed his hands and waited for a while before drinking. Once his belly was full, he scrunched up in the blanket and stared at the clouds. They were gray today. Big and puffy and gray. The boy shivered. He didn't want to catch those clouds. They were probably full of gray snow. He didn't like gray snow.

          "You know, it' s been almost a month since we've been together," Odin said. The boy looked back down at him. He wasn't sure how long a month was…but he knew it was a very very long time. He must be five by now!  Odin pulled the black thing from his coat and looked at it for a long moment. The boy looked at it too. Odin looked at him and held the black thing in the air so its mouth was pointing up.

          "You know what this is?" he asked. The boy shook his head.

          "No." 

          "It's a gun. This is what I'm going to teach you. You'll live by this…and you'll die by it too. Don't let anyone tell you any different." Odin took the boy's empty bowl, stood and walked to a nearby rock. He set the bowl on the rock then stepped back from it a little.

          "Come here kid," Odin said. The boy held the blanket tightly and did as he was told. Odin sighed. "Drop the blanket."

          "It's cold!" the boy said, stomping his foot. 

          "Being cold is a part of life. Now drop it."

          "No!"

          "Now!" Odin snapped in his angry voice. The boy glared at him, almost about to sit down where he was and not move. The gun caught his eye again. That was a grownup toy. The boy let go of the blanket and reached for the gun. The man let him take it. It was heavy and strange. 

          "You put this hand here, to support it," Odin said, adjusting the boy's hands. "And this hand here…. And you use this finger to pull the trigger. Don't do anything. Just hold it to get the feeling of it."  They stood there for a long time. The boy sighed. This toy was boring and he was getting cold. He wanted to go watch the fire fairies. Suddenly Odin took the gun from his hands.

          "Heeey!" the boy cried, turning around and reaching for the gun. He had been playing with that!

          "Calm down, calm down. Here." Odin gave him the gun again. "Now, put your hands like I showed you."  The boy poked his tongue through his lips, trying to remember what Odin had said.

          "Like this?" the boy asked, bringing the gun up. Odin's face went really white. The boy giggled. He looked silly.

          "K…kid. Put the gun down." 

          "Why?"

          "Just do it!" Odin snapped. The boy set his chin. No. He wanted to play with it. Odin gave it to him to play with it and he wasn't done yet!

          "Damn it put it down!" Odin yelled, smacking his hand on the top of the gun. The boy jumped. A lond bang roared in his ears and his arms jerked up. The boy blinked. There was a hole in the ground between Odin's feet. The boy looked in the gun's mouth. Had the hole come from here? 

          "How do they get a hole inside the gun?" the boy asked. Odin again snatched the gun from him. The boy looked up at him, lip trembling.

          "Gimme!"

          "Oh no. Not for a while kid. I've lived too long to let a toddler blow my head off." 

          That was _his toy! He wanted _his _toy back. _

          "Giiiimmeeee!" he whined, reaching up for the toy.

          "No!" Odin said. 

          "Mine! It's mine! Gimme! Now!" the boy said, stomping his foot.

          "No. That's the last time I'm gonna tell you. N- O-."

          "Yes!"

          "No!"

          "Yeeeeeeesss!" the boy screamed, stomping on the ground with both feet.

          "Shut up you stupid brat!" Odin snapped. The boy fisted his hands at his side and began to scream. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He screamed until he couldn't breathe anymore. Then he took a deep breath and screamed again. 

          "All right!!" Odin yelled. "All right kid!! Just shut up!!"  The boy did as he was told. Wow. That had never worked with Daddy. So…if he screamed…Odin would let him do whatever he wanted.

          "But you have to exactly what I say…understand?" 

          "Okay!" the boy said with a smile. 

          "Turn around first of all."

          The boy did as he was told and the man put the gun in his hands. It was easier to adjust his fingers around it. 

          "Now," Odin said, voice close to his ear. "I want you to try and shoot that bowl." 

          "Shoot it?" the boy asked.

          "Yeah. Like you did a few minutes ago. Aim for it and pull the trigger." 

          "Okay…" The boy put his hands on the little pull back switch, pointed the gun at the bowl and jerked his finger. There was the banging sound and again his arms were jerked up. Now there was a hole in the bowl. The boy giggled. Hole in the bowl. Hole in the bowl. Bowl in the hole. 

          "Beginners luck," Odin said. "Now let's try something a little harder hm?"  The man took the bowl from the rock, then went behind the boy. Then said nothing for a long time. The boy whimpered. He wanted to put a hole in something! Not just stand here! 

          "Get that!" Odin shouted suddenly. The boy, jumped, looked up and saw the bowl flying high in the air. The boy pointed the gun at the falling bowl and pulled again. The bowl landed on the ground a few feet away.

"You probably missed it," Odin said, taking the gun from him. 

          "Heeeey!" the boy said, preparing himself to scream again. 

          "I'm just holding this while you go and get the bowl. When you bring it back, we can practice some more," he said. The boy scrambled to where the bowl had landed. Yay! More holes! More holes! He spotted the bowl among a thick clump of grass. He picked it up and giggled as he saw a hole right through the bottom. Hole in bowl! 

          "Lookit!" he said, putting the bowl up to his face and staring at Odin through the hole. Odin's mouth dropped open and the boy giggled. He looked so silly! 

---

Notes: Rather a light chapter in't it? ^^: Next one is reallly dark, just thought I'd warn you. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but, oh, if I did, I'd buy me a big house where we all could live. ^^: Sorry. Moulin Rouge overdose here

Night~Mare


	4. First Blood

        The boy stared out the window as the telephone poles whizzed past. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. …. Eight. Seven. Ten. Nine. Odin was taking him somewhere. The boy looked over at the man with his hands on the wheel. Odin hadn't told him where they were going. It was taking foreverrrrr. He wanted to be outside putting holes in things. He'd been putting holes in things for a long time now. Odin said he had natural talent. The boy wondered if natural talent were anything like natural clouds. 

          "Odin?" the boy asked. The man seemed to hold the steering wheel tighter. 

          "What?" he said in an almost angry voice. 

          "Are we there yet?"

          "You just asked me that two minutes ago!" Odin said. It sounded like he was speaking through his teeth. The boy stared at him for a moment.

          "So are we?"

          "Look. When we get there. I'll tell you. Okay? Just stop asking."  

          The boy looked at his feet. He kicked on foot. Then the other one. Then the first foot again. A little tune began to play in his mind. _Bum bum bum…_

"Magical Plushy Island, it's a great place to be," he sang. "And when we play together it's fun for you and me!" 

          "What…are you…doing?" Odin asked. 

          "Singing."

          "Well stop."

          "Why?"

          "Because I don't want to have to clean up your blood from the floorboards." 

          The boy sighed and looked back out the window. He'd forgotten how the rest of the song went anyway. He pointed his finger at a telephone pole.

"Bam," he whispered. Then at the other poles. "Bam. Bam. Bam."

"You'd probably hit them all too," Odin said. "I couldn't do what you can until I was at least twenty. You shoot like a demon, kid."

"What's a demon?"

"A monster from hell."

"What's hell?"

"A place where bad people go."

"Oh." Silence. Boring. Boring. Boring. He wanted to plaaaay and put holes in things. Holes in bowls. Bowls in holes. Bowly holes. 

"Odin?"

"If you're going to ask what I think you're going to ask you had better not ask it," he said in a growly voice. The boy stared at him. How did he know what Odin thought he was going to ask? Oh well. Grownups were confusing. He should just ask anyway.

"Are we there yet?"

***

          "Hey…kid…wake up," a voice said. The boy opened his eyes, blinking slowly. He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his fist.

          "Are we there yet?"

          "Yeah. We're here." 

          "Yay!" The boy sat up and looked out the window. His heart did a little flip-flop. There were swings and slides and dungle gyms and lots and lots of kids. Some even looked older then he was. Yay! A playground! The boy began to bounce up and down in his seat. Yay! Yay! Yay!

          "All right kid. Now listen up," Odin said. The boy gave him as much attention as he could. When Odin said things like that, it was usually important and he got mad when the boy forgot. 

"Your name is John Smith."

"Noooo," the boy said, shaking his head. "My name started with a 'hee' sound."

"Not your real name. The name you're using in there." 

"Why?"

          "Because I said so. Just shut up and listen. I want you to pretend I'm your father okay? Can you do that?"  
          "Okay. Can I play too?" 

          "Yes."  
          "Okay!" The boy opened the door and started to get out of the car but the man grabbed his arm, stopping him. The boy looked back at him.

          "Now, what is my name?" the man asked. The boy blinked.

          "Odin."

          "What are we pretending? Remember?"

          "Ohh… Umm…Daddy?"

          "Riiight. Keep that in mind okay?" 

          The boy nodded. He wanted ouuut. Odin let go of his arm. The boy got out onto the sidewalk and ran up to the fence, watching the kids playing inside. This was going to be so fun! Maybe if he was good, Odin would let him put holes in things! 

          "Let's go John," Odin said. Wow! A spinny-twirly! He loved the spinny-twirly! Even when it made him throw up he could go right back on and go around and around and around.

          "John!" Odin snapped, putting a hand on his shoulder. The boy looked up at him.

          "Let's go John," Odin said very slowly. The boy blinked. He didn't know his name but he was pretty sure it wasn't John. 

          "Remember?" Odin said, a smile that seemed angry at the same time on his face. Ohhh. 

          "Okay Daddy! Let's go!" the boy said, grabbing Odin's hand. Odin rolled his eyes and said something that the boy couldn't hear. The man led the boy to a big red building. Above the black door was a big cloth with writing on it and a smiling sun on both sides of the words.

          Inside the building were a bunch of pictures, like the kind the boy drew, and cartoon pictures of animals and suns on the walls. Wow. This place was fun. Odin led him up to a desk in the center of the room. Behind that desk was a smiling woman. 

          "Hello. Welcome to Sunnytime Daycare. Can I help you?"

          "Yes, my name is Alexander Smith-"

          "I'm John Smith!" the boy said, proud that he remembered the name. Odin gave him a little bit of an angry look but didn't yell.

          "Well hello John Smith," the woman said with a smile. 

          "Eh heh…cute isn't he?" Odin said with a smile that seemed actually real.

          "He's adorable Mr. Smith." 

          "I was told that John was accepted to this daycare?"

"I'll see if you're in the system," the woman said. There was a bunch of clicking noises. Finally she said:

          "It appears so. Will this be John's first day?" she asked, smiling down at him. 

          "No. John gets nervous in strange places so we just thought we'd take a little tour first."

"Oh. No problem. If you give me a second I'll show you around." 

The boy bounced from foot to foot as he waited for something to happen. The woman was busy doing grownup things and Odin was just standing there. Finally the woman came around the desk and held out her hand to him.

"Well, shall we go?" she asked. The boy took her warm hand and smiled. She looked pretty. The woman led them through several rooms. The one that really caught his eye was filled with toys. Toys all over the place and no one there to play with them. 

"Canni go play?" the boy asked.

"Later," Odin said. 

"But you said I could play! I wanna play!"

"Tell you what," the woman said. "When we're done looking around you can go play in the playground with the other kids. If…your Daddy doesn't mind."

"I suppose we have some spare time," Odin said. Yay! Yay, yay, yay! He was going to go on the swing first, then the slide, then the spinny-twirly, then the slide, then the spinny-twirly, then the dungle gym, then the spinny-twirly. 

"This is the time out room," the woman was saying. The boy wrinkled his nose. He didn't like the time out room. There was nothing there but a small squishy looking pillow and a window that looked out on the playground. 

 "I don't think that John will have to go in here, will he?" the woman asked, giving his hand a squeeze. The boy smiled.

"Why don't you go look outside?" Odin said, giving him a small pat on the back. This was one order that the boy had no trouble following. The window was small and narrow and pretty high up. The boy stood on tippy-toes and pressed his face to the glass. It was sooo colorful outside. He could see the entire playground below him.

"Does someone sit in the room with them?" Odin asked. 

"No sir. We believe that ignoring a tantrum is the best way to cure it."

"How long do you usually keep a kid in here for?"

"It depends. Usually only a minute or so. For hitting or anything like that, they get a full five. We have good kids here though so I don't think you'll have to worry Mr. Smith."

          "Excellent. So, John, want to go to the playground now?"

          "Yeaaahh!" the boy crowed.

***

          Baaaaack and fooorth, baaack and fooorth. The boy squealed and kicked his feet happily as Odin continued to push him in the swing. At first, the man hadn't wanted too, but the nice woman had talked to him. This was so fun! He didn't even know Odin knew how to be fun! He thought all Odin knew how to do was be grumpy. 

          The swing suddenly jerked to a stop. The boy fell forward, oofing as the bar that kept him safely in the swing bumped into his belly. Heeey. He wasn't done swinging yet!

          "Mooore! I wanna do it mooore," he said, kicking his feet. 

          "All right kid. All right. I just want to show you something. Do you see that man over by the slide?" 

          The boy looked. There was a big man with hair the color of snow, talking to a little girl. The man turned a little and the boy saw he had a big round nose, like a small balloon…it was even red too. The boy giggled.

          "Funny man!" 

          "If you saw him tomorrow would you recognize him?"

          "Yep!" 

          "Good." 

          "Push me! Push meeeee!" the boy demanded. Odin sighed and let go of the swing. The boy laughed as his feet almost seemed to walk across the sky. Wheee!

***

          The boy laughed as he went down the side. It was a brand new day and he was at the playground again. As he came to the end, he didn't put his legs down and his butt hit the ground. The boy sat there blinking for a second, deciding on whether or not to cry. No grownups were looking his way. He stood and brushed off his new coat.

          It was dark green and puffy. He could easily hide a whole jar of fairies inside it. What was inside it though was even more exciting. Odin had given him the gun! Only, he couldn't use it 'til he was supposed to. The boy glanced at the fence. No one there. He sighed. When Odin showed up, the boy was supposed to hit someone to get himself in timeout. Then…what else? The boy scrunched up his nose, trying to remember. Oh right! Once he got into timeout he was supposed to open the window and wait for Mr. Balloon-Nose to come along. Then he was supposed to put a hole in him. The boy didn't think it was very nice to put holes in people. But Odin had said the man needed an extra hole in his head…to keep his brain cool. It made sense to the boy. Some people just needed cooler brains then others. 

          The boy ran around to the slide again. He hadn't taken off his coat all day and inside it was hot. The nice woman had tried to get him to take it off but he wouldn't. He hoped Odin came soon. He didn't like being hot…and he wanted to shoot hoooles! 

When he reached the bottom of the slide, he suddenly saw Odin. The man was standing by the fence; watching him. The boy smiled. Yay! Now he had to hit someone. He walked up to a little boy playing in the sandbox. When the boy looked up at him, he punched him in the head. 

***

          The boy stood on the pillow, staring out of the open window. The grownups had gotten very very mad at him. Did he do a bad thing? He'd only done what Odin had told him. Odin was a grownup. So was it bad to listen to some grownups but not others? He just didn't understand.

          He watched as the kids played outside, wishing he could join them again. He hadn't even had a chance to go on the spinny-twirly yet! Then Mr. Balloon-Nose appeared, walking toward the slide. Yay! The boy unzipped his jacket and pulled out the gun. Then he pointed it at Mr. Balloon-Nose and pulled.

          Everything was quiet then. He couldn't hear anything but his heart. He watched as Mr. Balloon-Nose jerked, and then slowly fell to the ground red stuff spraying from his head. Then everything became fast. So fast. Everyone started screaming and screaming.

          "Daddy!" the little girl cried. "Daaaaddyyyyy!!" 

          The boy sat down where he was, holding the gun. His hands were shaking. He sat there for a long time, staring past the wall, remembering over and over the way Mr. Balloon-Nose had fallen.

Footsteps. Footsteps were coming closer. Someone was running The boy hurriedly put the gun in his jacket and zipped it up. He would get in trouble if they knew. Something really bad would happen if they knew. That was not a good thing he had done. Odin was wrong. It was a very very bad thing. The door opened and the nice woman came in and wrapped him in a hug.

          "Oh God, are you all right John?! You must have seen the whole thing!!" She was crying. The boy tried to wriggle out of her grasp. No. He didn't want to be hugged. He'd done a bad thing! He shouldn't be hugged for doing a bad thing. 

          "I did it," he whimpered, trying to make her let go. "I did it. I did it."  
          "Ohh nooo sweetheart," the woman said, petting his head gently. "Nooo. You didn't do anything. Ssh. Don't worry. It's going to be all right. We'll call your Daddy to come pick you up okay? Wouldn't you like to see your Daddy?"

          "Daddy's dead," the boy whispered.

          "Oh you poor thing. It's going to be all right, John. It's going to be all right."   
---

          The boy watched the rain splatter against the front window. The black wipers wiped the rain away, but the rain always came back. The clouds were crying. He wanted to cry too…but there wasn't any cry in him and he didn't know why.

          "That was a good job kid," Odin said. "At first I didn't think you could do it…but I'm glad you did. Saved me a lot of trouble. That's the only place the guy went without bringing along half a dozen bodyguards. Guess he figured he was safe at a daycare."  
          "Will…will he come back tomorrow?"

          "No kid. He's dead. Dead people never come back." 

          "Why is he dead?"

          "You killed him. Clean shot too. Right through the temple." Odin whistled. "Probably didn't even see it coming until it was over."

          "Killing…isn't bad is it?" the boy asked hopefully. Odin didn't sound as if killing were bad. The yellow haired man chuckled.

          "Yes it is. Worst thing you could possibly do to someone."

          "So am I going to hell?" He hoped not. He didn't want to go to hell. He didn't know where it was but with all the bad people it would be scary there. 

          "Most likely kid," Odin said, patting his knee. "But don't worry. I'll be there too. We'll roast together." 

          The boy said nothing more and watched the telephone poles go past. He was a bad person now. A bad, bad person. He'd made the clouds cry. 

----

Notes: TOLD you it got dark. ^^;;; 

Disclaimer: Don't own. Wish I did. Would open a cabaret. Wouldn't you like to see Duo doing the can-can? 0o;; Weeeird mental image there.

            
Night~Mare  
  
  
  
          

  
  
  
  



	5. The Meaning of Family

The boy sat, knees curled up to his chest, and watched Odin put together a long gun Odin called a rifle. An assassin's rifle. He looked around at the apartment. A lumpy mattress was up against the cracked wall. On the other side of the room, a small, dirty, refrigerator sat next to a sink that spit out brown water. Next to the door were two suitcases. One for the rifle, the other containing what few things they had. Another apartment. Another job. It was the way life had always been. 

          Odin pointed the rifle at him, hugged it to his shoulder, sighted and pulled the trigger. There was nothing but a soft click. The boy stared into the mouth of the gun and wondered why he wasn't afraid. Others were afraid, but there was no fear in him. Sometimes it felt there was nothing in him at all.

          "Someday I'm going to make you flinch, kid," Odin said, lowering the rifle. The boy shrugged and turned his gaze out the dirty window. An Earth city rose into the air, glass shining like stars in the afternoon sun. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Odin brought the smaller suitcase over and began to take apart the rifle. The man was working carefully, gently, as if one wrong touch would break it. 

          "Oh yeah. Happy anniversary, kid," Odin said. The boy turned his head to look the man full in the face.          

          "Anniversary?"

          "Yeah. It's been a year since I found you. I'm guessing you're probably five now so it really should be happy birthday shouldn't it?"  
          "Hn," the boy said, turning his gaze back to the window. Birthdays… A part of him remembered how much fun they used to be. Used to be…but they wouldn't be now. 

          "I still remember that day. Do you?"

          "Not really." 

          "Wouldn't think so." Odin put the last remaining pieces of the gun and snapped the suitcase shut. Then the man disappeared from his eyesight and the boy heard the squealing of the mattress.  Outside, birds fluttered past the window. The boy watched them until they disappeared into the blue sky. He wished he could go up there like they did. It would be fun to fly. 

          "Didn't have anything back then. Five years after leaving the alliance and I still didn't know up from down." He laughed softly. "I was so pathetic. I had promised myself I was going to stay out of it. But at that point I couldn't even buy food. So I took a job. A simple job. But it would keep me alive one more day. So I blew up a building. Leveled the entire block. Funny thing is, the rat that was supposed to be exterminated wasn't there. Found out a few days later that he'd left early."   
          The boy looked down at the dirty floor. He'd never seen a building blow up. But he knew what it must feel like. All he could remember about that day though was snow. Dirty gray snow and…and he hurt. It was a sad memory but he held it close to him. It was good to be sad sometimes. It was better than being nothing. 

          "Don't you hear what I'm saying, kid?" Odin said. "That building was probably yours. Or one of the ones caught in the blast. I'm the one that did it. Don't you feel anything at all?"  
          The boy looked deep inside himself. All he felt was the same. What was he supposed to feel? Sad? Scared? The boy reached down and fingered the laces on his shoes without answering. He didn't know how he felt. 

          "You don't care do you? You are a demon spawn. The only time I've ever seen you cry is when you were little and throwing a fit. You used to smile a lot back then."

          "I can't believe I ever smiled," he said to himself. He didn't realize he'd spoken his thought until Odin snorted.

          "I'm starting to think I imagined it myself."  
          There was a long silence. The boy began to trace patterns in the dust on the floor. This was the worst part. The waiting. They couldn't do anything until the right time. Everything had been planned and one little mistake could ruin the whole thing. He didn't like to wait. Waiting was boring. But there was nothing else to do. Nothing except shoot people. 

          "Odin?" 

          "Mm?"  
          "Do you have any family?" 

          There was a rustle of cloth as Odin sat up.

          "Where did that come from?" the man asked. The boy shrugged. He didn't know. He just thought he wanted to ask. Something inside him wanted to know.

          "Yeah. Once.  A million years ago," he said, lying back down.

          "Not anymore?"  
          "Nope. An assassin doesn't have any family, kid. An assassin doesn't have anyone. No past. No future. Just the present. And if you're really good, no one will know when you're gone."  
          "Gone?"

          "Dead, kid."

          "Oh." The boy looked outside the window. The clouds would know. The clouds always knew. They knew everything. He looked back down and sighed a little. They didn't like him anymore. 

---

          The street was busy. The boy sat on a bench, kicking his feet and watching the building on the other side of the street. Errol Daico was supposed to come out soon. The boy could remember his face. Narrow and thin with two tufts of hair sticking up on either side of his head, and a bristly mustache. A rat face. They were going to extri…men…eat… kill another rat.

          The building had a long covered walkway outside of it. It went almost up to where the cars dropped people off. When the target came out it, Odin would only have a short time to fire before the man went into his car. It was the boy's job to keep Odin informed. He had a little thing attached to his collar so he could speak to Odin and another little thing in his ear so he could listen to what Odin had to say. The boy liked his job. It was much better then shooting people. All he had to do was pay attention to the building and tell Odin exactly what was happening.   

          Across the street, the doors opened. The boy sat up and watched. There were two men, dressed in black, looking around carefully. The boy knew what they were. He'd seen many of them before.

          "The guards are out," he said, keeping his voice low. 

          \How many are there?\ Odin's voice sounded like it was small and far away.

          "Two."

          \Well he's got a lot more then that.\

          The guards nodded and one of them spoke something into a phone. A shiny black car pulled up a few seconds later. 

          "The car is here."  
          \Confirmed. Keep a close eye, kid. Daico isn't far behind.\

          The two guards went up to the car and stood in front of it. The doors opened again and a few more guards came out. In the middle was Daico. The boy leaned forward a little, heart pounding.

          "The target is in view."

          \How many guards?\

          "Twelve all together."

          \Tuh. Figures. All right kid. Where are they?\

          "The first guards are almost out of the walkway." 

          \Right.\

          One of the guards slapped a black shoe against the sunlit sidewalk. Then looked up. Suddenly a gun was in the guards hand and a loud cracking sound filled the air.

          \Shit!\ 

          "Odin!" the boy cried.

          \I'm all right, kid. But the mission's blown.\  

          Some guards had come around the car and were firing into the air. The other guards were rushing Daico into the car. The car. If he could stop the car… The boy jumped off of the bench and tore across the street. A car was coming at him from the other way. It began to screech as it tried to stop. The boy picked up speed. The black car was starting to leave. 

          \What the hell are you doing?!\ Odin shouted.  The boy didn't have time to tell. He flung himself in front of the black car. There was a loud honk and an even louder screeching sound that made his ears ring. The boy saw a glimpse of the driver's face before everything exploded into hurt. It was all black and he was flying. Flying. There was the loud pop of a gun and then he hit something hard and was lost to a world where it didn't hurt anymore. 

---

          The boy woke up slowly. First he could feel the cool sheets over him and the strange way his arm was bound and levitated. There was something up his nose too. It didn't hurt…but it felt funny Then, slowly, soft mumbling voices floated over him and a quiet beeping. The voices that grew clearer the more he listened. 

          "They say he jumped right in front Darcia's car," one woman said. "So the driver had to stop. And right after that Darcia got shot."  
          "And just what are you trying to say?" the second woman said. She sounded a little angry. 

          "Well… I mean there is a rumor going around that this kid was involved with the assassination."

          "Don't be ridiculous. He can't be more then five. Not even in grade school yet, the darling."

          "I wonder why in the world he was running across the street anyway?"  
          "Oh, he probably got excited about seeing the body guards. You know how little boys are. Anything in a black suit wearing sunglasses is 'in' nowadays.  He's lucky they didn't shoot him." 

          There was a long silence. The boy could see gray on his eyelids. So Odin had completed his mission. The boy had done a good thing then. Maybe…maybe Odin would be proud of him. 

          "Oh, he looks like he's waking up," the first woman said.

          "Don't worry, the medication's ready. All you have to do is syringe it into the tube like I showed you."

          "Like this?" the first woman asked. The boy wasn't awake long enough to even hear the other woman's answer. 

          For a long time he was wrapped in warm, cozy darkness. There were no nightmares, no hurt, just black. After a little while, he slowly came awake again. There were no voices, just the quiet beeping. He opened his eyes to a strange ceiling. The boy looked around the room. There was a chair by a window on one side, on the other all sorts of machines. A pole with bags hanging from it was beside the bed. The bags had tubes in them which ran all the way down into the boy's arm. The boy's other arm was lifted high into the air and wrapped in hard white stuff. 

The boy knew what this place was. He could remember coming somewhere like this before a long time ago. There had been a woman lying on the bed, with a white face, looking so much like a spooky skeleton that it had scared him. Someone had once told him that this place took care of sick people. That didn't make any sense though. He wasn't sick. He didn't even hurt anymore. 

          The door opened and a man wearing a white coat came in. He was carrying a little silver board and there was one of those cold metal things around his neck. The boy frowned. A doctor. He hoped the doctor wasn't going to give him a shot. The man smiled behind his brown beard and the boy immediately liked him. Doctors who gave shots didn't usually smile. 

          "Well good morning…and how are you feeling today?" the man asked. The boy thought to say 'good' but he couldn't get his mouth to move. When he finally was able, his voice was scratchy and grumbly. The doctor smiled and patted his hand.

          "That's good. I'm sure you feel a little woozy and wobbly, but that's only natural. It'll pass once you've gotten better." 

          The doctor looked at the bags on the pole and wrote on his board. Then he checked the boy's eyes and tongue. Then he looked at the fingers of the hand lifted in the air. Then the man gently touched his side, asking if certain places hurt when he touched them. Finally the doctor straightened and was again smiling at him.

          "Well, it looks like you'll be okay. Would you like to know what's wrong with you? It could be scary," the man said. The boy nodded. He didn't think it would scare him. Nothing scared him anymore.  The doctor looked at his board and frowned a little.

          "You have three broken ribs, your arm is broken in two places. You have a sprained ankle, a moderate concussion and cuts and bruises all over. All in all, you're lucky. Even if the man had been driving a little slower, being hit like that would have killed any other child your age…or at least put them into the hospital for a long time. You should never run across the street like that, understand? You have to have an adult hold your hand so it will be safe."  

          The boy didn't understand. Odin never held his hand when he crossed the street before. Odin had never held his hand at all. Odin was a grownup so Odin _should _know if he had to hold the boy's hand or not. He sighed a little. Grownups were always so confusing.

          The door opened again. The boy's heart smiled as Odin came in. Yay! It made him happy to see someone familiar. The doctor turned toward Odin. 

          "Can I help you, sir?"

          "No. I just wanted to see my son. Is he too bad off?" 

          "He'll survive," the doctor said in a suddenly angry voice. "You really need to keep a closer eye on him. He could have been killed."

          "I know. I know. I'm not letting him out of my sight again, you can believe that." Odin came to sit in the chair beside the window. The doctor gave him an angry face for a good long moment, then left. When the door shut, Odin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

          "Arrogant bastard. I hate the people that do the whole, holier-then-thou, routine." 

          "What's a thou?" the boy asked. Odin laughed a little.

          "Good to hear your dumb questions again, kid. You've been out nearly a week. I really thought you were a goner this time. "

"Did…did I help?"  
"Yes. You were a big help. But never help in that way again, understand?" 

The boy nodded. Odin leaned closer to him, resting his arms on the bed and putting his face right next to the boy's ear. 

"I'm going to take you out tonight," the man whispered. "I'd leave you in here if I could but some people are starting to take too close a look at me." 

          "Will I be better tonight?" the boy asked. Odin straightened and shook his head.

          "Not by much."

          "The doctor said that I would be…woozy and wobbly…until I get better," the boy said. Odin laughed again.

          "'Woozy and wobbly' huh? What are they shooting you up with in here? Whiskey?" 

          "They didn't shoot me," the boy said, wondering exactly what the grownup was talking about. He was so sleepy all of a sudden. Odin flapped his hand.

          "Ah, never mind, kid. Don't worry being 'woozy or wobbly'. I'll take good care of you," the man said. Of course. Grownups always took care of kids. The boy closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to that warm dark. Right before he fell asleep completely, he felt someone gently touch his hair.

~~~

Notes: On three now. One… Two… AWWWWWW ^_^

Disclaimer: I own all rights to Gundumb Thing. Gundam Wing however is much better and unfortunately I don't own that. ^^; Ah well. You can't have it all.

Night~Mare


	6. Ice Blue Eyes: Part I

          "We are now docking. Please buckle your seatbelts, make sure your terminal is off, and place your trays in the upright position. Thank you for flying Colonial Space Transport and we hope you enjoy your stay on L-4." 

          The boy stared out the window. The boy stared out the window. There was a slight jolt as the wheels of the shuttle hit the runway. The stars were slowly replaced by metal wall as the shuttle slid into the docking bay. The shuttle rolled a few feet more, then stopped. Odin, who hadn't even buckled his seatbelt, stood and stretched.

          "Ugh. I always hate these all night flights."

          "We could have taken the express shuttle," the boy said, standing. Odin reached up and started to take their things from the overhead compartment.

          "Can't afford an express," Odin said, putting the boy's small suitcase on the chair. The boy opened it and took out the teddy bear. Then he snapped the suitcase shut and grinned at the blond man.

          "You just don't like the express shuttle because you get space sick."

          "Don't even start on that, kid… er... John."

          The boy giggled. Odin was funny when he got space sick. His face went all white and he held onto the seat like he was afraid it would run away from him. The boy hugged the teddy bear in one arm and picked up the suitcase. Then followed Odin. As they started to leave the shuttle, the stewardess smiled at him.

          "Well hello little man! Did you enjoy the flight?" she asked. The boy nodded, hiding his face a little behind the teddy bear, pretending to be shy. Hopefully she wouldn't. They almost always did, but hopefully she wouldn't. 

          "Aww. Shy are you? Well for being such a brave boy, I've got a treat for you," she said, reaching into the pocket on her dress. The boy tried not to sigh as she pinned a silver shuttle onto his shirt. The boy started to leave but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

          "What do you say, son?" Odin said with a broad smile. He was laughing at him. That wasn't very nice. 

          "Thank you," the boy muttered. As they stepped from the airlock into the main terminal, Odin really did laugh. 

          "You really hate that don't you?" the man asked.  The boy nodded.

          "I hate being treated like a little kid."

          "You are a little kid. You're only six. Six…with the mind of a twelve-year-old." 

          "Better then being fifty with the mind of a six-year-old."

          "For one thing, I'm only forty-seven-"

          "That's really old Daddy," the boy said as he spotted the security gate. Odin straightened and put a hand on his shoulder. 

          "ID please," the bored looking security man said. Odin gave it to him. The security guard looked at it and his eyebrows raised.

          "Part of the Archeological Research Foundation huh? My wife loves old stuff like that."  
          "So do I," Odin said, patting the case which the rifle was in. "That's why I need to ask you a favor." The security man suddenly looked uncomfortable. 

          "I'm…sorry, sir. I can't do favors…"

          "This is a very old artifact, if I bring it through the scanner, it'll destroy it. This is a priceless piece of history."  The security man cleared his throat and looked from side to side. Finally he nodded.

          "All…all right. You just go through and I'll hold onto this." 

          "Just be sure not to open it," Odin said. "If it hits the air it will crumble."

          "Right." 

          "Hold my teddy too! He doesn't like scanners," the boy said, holding the bear up. 

          "All right all right. Just go through. Hurry up." 

          A few seconds later, they were walking free of the security gate. The boy kept quiet as they went through the terminal. Men with guns were standing here and there, and he was sure there were hidden ones as well. With the war going on, the colonies were being very careful. But obviously not careful enough if they allowed security men like that.       

          They stepped outside and were met with a sunny sky. The main colony of L-4 rose up around them. Cars and busses hummed along busy streets. The sidewalk was full of people. 

          "Better keep a close eye on me, kid. You could get lost for days on this colony if you don't know where you're going." 

          The boy did as he was told. He almost lost Odin twice in the enormous crowd and was glad when they finally reached the hotel. It was strange that they were in a hotel. Usually, Odin rented an apartment on the dark side of town. An even stranger fact was that the boy hadn't been told about their assignment yet. Usually Odin told him right away, but he seemed to be avoiding it for some reason.

          The inside of the hotel looked like a lot of money. Leather chairs sat in circles on a fuzzy red carpet. Pretty rugs with lots of designs hung on the walls. High above a pretty light hung with crystals swung a little.

          Odin went up to the high front desk and leaned against it. The boy hung back a little, looking around and keeping an ear on what Odin was saying.

          "Do you have a reservation, sir?" said a male voice in a snooty tone.

          "Yes. My name is Odin Lowe."

          The boy stared at Odin's back, eyes wide. He…he used his own name. He'd never used his own name before! Not even for the shuttle.

          "Ahhh yes. Well it seems everything is in order, sir. Your room number is 569A. The bellhop will show you where it is."  
          "It does have a computer in there doesn't it?" 

          "Yes sir. The computer has an A4 class processor and intercolony linkup." 

          "Not interspace?"

          "No sir. All service has been restricted to intercolony." 

          "That's fine. Comon', kid." 

          The boy was silent as they followed the bellhop. There were so many things he wanted to ask. But he knew enough to keep quiet until the right moment. As soon as the bellhop closed the door, the boy turned to Odin.

          "What's going on?" 

          The man looked at him a long moment, then sighed, dropped his suitcases, and flopped on the bed. 

          "Ah shut up, kid. You know I have to rest after long space trips."

          The boy frowned. He wanted to know _now. But Odin would only get grouchy if he pressed further. Odin was watching him, a thoughtful look on his face. The boy dropped his own little suitcase and tossed the teddy bear onto the bed. Odin yelped and rolled out of the bed, falling with a thud on the floor. The boy blinked. When Odin got to his feet, stomped over to the boy and roughly grabbed his arm._

          "Are you out of your mind?! Don't throw that thing!" he snapped. 

          "Why not?"  
          "Because there's a gun in there." Odin said through his teeth in a low voice. "If that goes off we're gonna have hotel security up here faster then you can blink."  
          "Oh…sorry. I forgot."  
          "I forgot," Odin said, letting him go. "You haven't even _started _your mission yet and all ready you 'forget'."

          "My mission?"  
          "Yeah kid, your mission. Come here," Odin said, going to sit at the computer. The boy stared at him. His mission? A mission to do all by himself? A part of him was a little scared…but another part was excited. He went to sit beside Odin who had turned on the computer. There was a picture of stars in a brown frame and below it the words: Microsoft Windows Colony Edition. Then the computer went to another screen with all sorts of little pictures and a gray bar at the bottom. 

          "Keep a close eye on what I do, kid. You're gonna have to learn how to get around this thing." 

          The boy nodded. Too fascinated to look away. A little arrow appeared and pointed to a small picture which had the letters ICL. 

          "Clicking on this will get you into the Intercolony Linkup. You'll have access to all sorts of personal sites and information in the L-4 colony cluster."

          "Does Interspace Linkup get you access to all of the colonies?" 

          "Yes. But with the threat of the Alliance they don't want any information to accidentally leak out. Of course there is a way you can get information from anything…but I'm not a hacker so I wouldn't know." There was a click and a new screen popped up. Odin clicked some buttons. There was a slight pause, then a picture of a man showed up. He was old. Older then Odin. His eyes were a dark, dark blue. The boy suddenly noticed Odin was watching him again. As if he was waiting for him to say something. The boy read the name under the picture.

          "Ak…em…i T…To…dai," the boy said, carefully sounding out the letters. "Is that right?" he asked, looking at Odin. The man nodded.

          "Yeah."

          "Is he my target?" the boy said, looking back at the picture. His heart sank a little. He didn't want Akemi Todai to be his target. He had such a kind face. 

          "Yes…and no. The deal is they _think he's giving information to the Alliance…but they can't _prove _anything. He's really trusted in the Winner family so they won't investigate him. On top of that, they discourage any other investigations saying it's an insult to them. There aren't many people in the colonies who want to insult the Winner's." _

          "So my job is to find proof."  
          "Or lack of it."

          The boy frowned. He didn't know how to do that. Odin never taught him anything about that. 

          "How?" the boy asked.

          "Looking in his computer, searching through his files. I'll give you some bugs to set around the house."  
          "Bugs?" the boy repeated, cocking his head. How would a bug help? "Is Akemi Todai afraid of bugs?" he asked. Odin chuckled.

          "I'll show you, kid."   

          "How am I supposed to infiltrate his house?" 

          "Infiltrate?" Odin whistled. "Kid, if you use big words like that you're not going to be able to infiltrate anything. Remember, you're _six. Act like it."  
          The boy nodded. That meant he would have to act little and dumb. He could do it if he had to. If he did this mission right all on his own, Odin would _really _be proud of him. _

          "Anyway," Odin continued. "Todai is pretty rich and he doesn't have an heir.  Rumor has it that he's looking around at the orphanages."

---

          It was night. He stared at the orphanage through a big iron gate. The tall, dark windows seemed to watch him. The boy clutched the handle of his little suitcase and held the bear closer to him. He slowly glanced at Odin. The man was leaning against the rented car, arms folded.

          "How long will I be here?" the boy asked. Odin shrugged.

          "I don't know. I'll start spreading some rumors…but…" he shrugged again. "I don't think any longer then a month or so." The boy looked back at the building. A whole month? He'd never been away from Odin more then a day before. His heart began to beat a little faster and something lumped in his throat. Was…was this what fear felt like?

          "What should I do?"

          "Well, when they find you in the morning, make up some kind of sob story about how I left you here. _Don't _use my name. After that, just lie low. Familiarize yourself with the computer. Try to act like a kid. I'll keep you posted."

          "Okay," he said, wondering why his voice was shaking.    

          "Anything else you want to ask me before I go?"

          "Will you miss me?" the words spilled from his mouth before he thought them. His heart wanted to know. It was a stupid question. Of _course he would. Odin was a grownup. Grownups were supposed to miss kids when they went away. The man laughed._

          "Miss you? Hell no. After three years of lugging you around, having a kid free month is going to be heaven. Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

          "No," the boy said. _Yes, _his heart said. He kept forgetting that Odin wasn't a regular grownup.

          "Oh yeah, your probably not going to anyway, but don't look up any more information on Todai. Trust me, kid, it would be really better for you not to know."

          "Okay," the boy said softly. The car door shut and the engine started. The boy watched it leave out of the corner of his eye. _Come back! His heart called. __Come back! Don't leave me here! Don't you love me? The boy clenched his hand into a fist._

          "This is my mission," he murmured to himself. "I _have to do this." He sat on the cold sidewalk, leaning his back against the fence. Maybe…maybe if he did the mission Odin would love him then. The boy looked at the stars. They weren't the real stars. Odin said it was just an illusion to make people feel happy. He didn't care if they weren't real. Anything that made people happy, real or not, was good. _

          The boy curled up on the sidewalk, resting his head on the suitcase and hugging the bear close to him. Then he closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep. 

          A light touch on his shoulder woke him up. The boy shot up and looked around, heart pounding. He was…outside. Oh… right. He glanced at the person who had touched him. The first thought that struck him was that she was pretty. Her hair was bright yellow, like the sun and pulled into a high ponytail. She had a smiling pink mouth and sparkling sky blue eyes. 

          "Hello little boy," she said in a soft, kind, tone. The boy immediately trusted her. "What are you doing out here?"

          "O…The person I was with told me I had to stay here. He said he didn't want me around any more," he said, looking hard at her face and hoping she wouldn't ask too many questions. The woman's blue eyes narrowed and for a moment she seemed angry. As soon as it had come, the anger was gone and she was staring at him like she was sad. Sad for him. Her face soon changed again and she was smiling. It was like the sun coming out of the clouds.

          "Don't worry. We'll take good care of you," she said, standing. He stood as well, remembering to keep a close hold on the teddy bear.

          "My name is Celia Winner," she said, holding out her hand. The boy looked at it. She had a white hand. He didn't want to touch her white hand. He might get it dirty. She was looking at him like she expected an answer.

          "Hello," he said, absently wiping his free hand on his shorts. The smile never left her face. 

          "Well let's get you inside shall we?" she said, picking up his suitcase. He followed her inside. He followed her down two halls and up a flight of stairs, trying to remember the layout of the building. He didn't think he'd _have _to know it, but Odin always said to find your escape routes just in case. The woman led him to a door marked 'Office' and pushed it open, gesturing for him to go first. The office was small. There were two bookshelves on either side of a small window. In the middle of the room was a low table, piled high with papers with a gray box thing in the center. The table was ringed with big, colorful cushions. What he liked best about the room, though, was all the pictures. They were pictures drawn by kids. None of them were really good. But just the thought that she found them important enough to hang them made him feel warm inside.     

          "First things first," Celia said, sitting beside the table. "We have to get you registered." She smiled at him and patted a cushion beside her. He obediently sat, crossing his legs. She opened the gray box thing and the boy was surprised to find it was a kind of computer. 

          "All righty. Now…what's-" From somewhere under the papers, a phone rang. Celia sighed. "One minute." 

          She moved a pile of papers to the side, picked up the phone and immediately started talking about adult things. The boy looked away, glancing at the pictures. A lot of them had a woman figure with yellow hair. The boy smiled a little. She must be really nice that so many kids loved her. A picture with a big red heart on it caught his eye. Below the heart, written in green, was the name 'John Smith'. Uh…oh…

          "Okay. Sorry about that," Celia said. "Now, what's your name?" 

          The boy's heart started beating faster. Oh no. What was he supposed to do?! Could he use the same one? Odin had never assigned him any other name then that. 

          "John Smith," he said softly, looking at the table top. _Please work, he thought. __Please. Please. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Celia frown._

          "Did you get that from the picture?"  
          "N…no," the boy said. His voice was shaking again. His heart felt like it was going to escape out his throat. What was happening to him? She placed her hand lightly over his. The boy stared. Her hand…her hand was so warm.

          "You don't have to lie. You're safe here. What's your name?"

          What could he use? What could he use?

          "O…Odin Lo-" he cut himself off. No! Odin had told him not to use that name. He hugged the teddy bear without thinking about it and realized his hands were shaking. 

          "Are you still lying?" Celia asked. He nodded quickly. What could he tell her? He didn't _have _a name! _All normal people have names, _a small voice inside him said. _She won't like you if you're not normal. She won't like you if you don't have a name. She'll kick you out and you'll fail your mission and Odin will be mad. _ The boy didn't realize he was crying until the woman brushed her hand against his face. He looked into her pretty sky blue eyes.

          "It's all right," she said. "It's okay. Don't be afraid."

          "I…I don't have a name," he whimpered.

          "Don't you remember what your Mommy and Daddy called you?" she asked. He looked down and shrugged. 

          "I don't have a Mommy or Daddy." 

          "What about the person that left you here? What did he call you?"

          "Odin calls me kid." The boy clapped a hand over his mouth. Oh noooo! He'd used Odin's name again! Odin was going to be sooo maaaad. Her eyes narrowed and she gently took his hand and pushed up his sleeve.

          "Did Odin do this to you?" she asked. He looked at the purplish marks on his skin and blinked. That was where Odin had grabbed him. 

          "Yes," he said, pulling his hand away. "But that's okay because I threw the teddy bear." 

          "I see," Celia said. She sounded angry…but it didn't seem to be at him. He looked down at his feet. Odin wasn't going to be proud of him even if he _did _complete this mission. He was a bad boy. A bad, bad boy. 

          "Well don't worry. We can fix you up with a nice name. Look up at me please," Celia said. The boy obeyed. She put a hand on her chin and leaned a little closer.

          "Hmmm," she said, tilting her head all the way to one side. "Hmmm." She tilted her head all the way to the other side. The boy smiled. She was a funny grownup.

          "You have a kind of Asian look to you," she said. "So let's try something Asian. Hmm. Ah!" She snapped her fingers. "What about Heero Yuy? Would you like that?"  The boy wrinkled his nose.

"That's a funny name."

"Yes it is. But it's the name of a great man. He was pacifist and was the leader of allll of the colonies."

"What's a…packyfist?" he asked. She laughed. 

"_Paci_fist. A pacifist is someone that hates violence."

"Violence is like shooting people, right?" 

"Mm-hm."      

          The boy shook his head. He didn't like shooting people either but… But he couldn't take the name of someone who didn't like it. It wouldn't be right. Besides, she had said that Heero Yuy was a great man. The boy wasn't a great anything. He was a bad person. Bad people couldn't be great.

          "I don't want that name." 

          "Why not?"

          "It sounds funny," the boy muttered, looking at his shoes. 

          "All right. Let's see. There are a few good name sites on the Linkup. Let's see if we can find something that suits you." He watched her go through the sites. He really liked doing it when Odin taught him. He hoped they would let him do it here. 

          "What abouuut….Hikari?" she said.

          "Hikari?" the boy repeated. That name…there was something familiar about it…like seeing Odin's face after a long time. 

          "Hikari means light. Would you like that one?" she asked. 

          "Yeah!" the boy said. He wasn't too heavy, so that should be a good name for him. Besides, he liked the way it sounded. 

          "All right Hikari." She brought up another window. It had words then blank boxes to type something in. "Hikari," she said as she typed. "No middle name." She hit the tab key and typed 'Winner' in the box labeled last name. The boy blinked. 

          "Winner?"

          "Mm-hm. Even if you don't have a Mommy or Daddy, being on L-4 means you're a part of the Winner family."

          "Your last name is Winner too?"

          "Yep."

          "Do you have a Mommy or Daddy?"

          "I do… And I have twenty-eight sisters," she said, raising her eyebrows. The boy nodded. She laughed unexpectedly. 

          "What?" he asked.

          "I was at least expecting a 'wow' if nothing else."

          The boy shrugged. He wasn't sure what sisters were. Odin said that nones were called sisters but that didn't make any sense. 

          "All right, fine, don't be impressed," she said with a laugh. "Okay…now. You have brown hair…beautiful cobalt blue eyes and you're abouuut, eight, right?"

          "Six." 

          "Wow really? You're really mature for your age."  
          "Sorry," the boy said, not sure if mature was a good thing or not. She laughed and patted his hand. He smiled. She laughed a lot. 

          "No, no. That's a good thing. My little brother is a lot like you in that way. He's only six too. Would you like to see a picture of him?"

          "Okay." 

          Celia opened the picture from her computer. There was a little boy, laughing and hanging on to a man's arm. Celia was smiling at the picture. A smile that he could remember someone giving him a long time ago. 

          "You love him don't you?" the boy asked. Celia nodded.

          "Very much. He's the baby of the family so it's hard not to love him. He's so friendly too, and bright…and sweet."

          "What's his name?"

          "Quatre. Quatre Raberba… Isn't that such a pretty combination?" She stared at the picture a bit longer, then sighed and clicked the computer closed.

"Anyway, let's get you situated Hikari. I'm sure you'll love it here."        

The boy looked into her blue eyes and smiled. With her here…he was sure he would love it.    
----

Notes: Hey. It COULD have happened. I don't see any evidence in the show that it DIDN'T. So NYAH.

  
Disclaimer: Do not own Gundam Wing. Do not own Ruroni Kenshin. Do not own Fushigi Yuugi. Do not even own Trigun. Wonder what my reason for living is.   
  


Night~Mare  
          


	7. Ice Blue Eyes: Part II

"That'll be all for today. Remember, third graders have homework due Monday. Have a nice weekend you guys," Miss Celia said, smiling. The boy smiled back at her. He really liked Miss Celia.  She taught the class for kindergarten through third grade so he got to see her every day. She always had a smile just for him. 

Since he was only in second grade, he shoved his books in his desk, stood and ran for the computer lab. The orphanage had about eight computers, but only one which was reserved for the little kids.        He barreled down a hall and galumphed down the steps taking two at a time. When he reached the bottom he made a sharp turn, sneakers shrieking on the white linoleum, and pounded his way to the computer lab. Suddenly something tripped him.    

The boy stumbled and fell on his hands and knees. There was the sound of laughing above him and the boy narrowed his eyes. It was _them. He stood and glared at the group of teenagers. There were three of them, all boys. Although they picked on everyone younger then them, the boy seemed to have become their favorite target._

          "Where do you think you're going, dweeb?" Dakeem, the leader, asked. The boy turned and headed for the computer lab. Sometimes if he ignored them, they left him alone. A hand grabbed his arm and roughly turned him around. 

          "Don't walk away from me like your not scared!" the teenager snarled. "I know better then that you little dork." Dakeem pulled back his fist. The boy stared at him. Dakeem almost always pulled his punches. He was really stupid. Threatening but never doing anything. The boy sighed.

          "If you're going to hit me, do it."

          "You asked for it brat!" Dakeem punched him in jaw, turning the boy's head to the side. The boy looked back at him. A little pain was nothing and Dakeem couldn't hit very hard anyway. 

          "That…that kid isn't human!" one of Dakeem's friend's said. "He's not even crying."  
          "I'll make him cry," Dakeem said, pulling back his fist again. 

          "Dakeem!" a woman snapped. The boy smiled as Miss Celia came into view. The teenager let the boy go. Miss Celia came up to them, an angry frown on her face. Miss Celia was really nice, but when she got mad even the big boys got scared. She stood between the boy and the teenager and folded her arms. 

          "What have I told you about hitting people? I know you've had a hard time but that's no excuse for taking it out on everyone else. Especially those who are younger then you." 

          "He told us to hit him," one of Dakeem's friends said. 

          "Yeah, he did," the other friend agreed.

          "You three are confined to your rooms for the weekend…and Dakeem, I'm putting you on lavatory duty."

          "Aww… but Miss Celia."

          "No arguing." 

          The teenagers walked away, muttering to themselves. Miss Celia turned to the boy and a concerned look was on her pretty face. Her fingers lightly brushed his cheek, bringing with them the scent of honeysuckle. Miss Celia was so wonderful. 

          "Come on, Hikari. I'll take you to the nurse," she said, holding out her hand. The boy shook his head.

          "I don't need to go." 

          "Are you sure?" she asked, her concerned frown deepening. 

          "I'm fine. It's just a bruise."

          "You're being such a big boy about this." The pretty smile was back on Miss Celia's face. "Every time I think I know you, you turn around and surprise me again." Yay! He made Miss Celia smile. The boy glowed with pride. Miss Celia smiled a lot but not _everyone _could make her smile. He was special! 

          "So what were you up to?" she asked him.

          "I was going to the computer lab."

          "You're always in the computer lab. Why don't you go outside and play?" Miss Celia put a light hand on his shoulder. The boy looked down and kicked the floor a little with his shoe.    

          "Don' wanna."  
          "Why not?"

          "Nobody likes me," he muttered. The woman laughed softly.

          "It's only been two weeks, Hikari. Give them a chance. I'm sure you'll make friends soon enough. Now go outside. It's such a beautiful day and it would be a pity to waste it."  
          The boy obeyed. He didn't really want too…but Miss Celia had told him to do it. He would do almost _anything for Miss Celia. The playground was full of kids of all ages. The really little ones were playing in the sandbox and all the older kids were grouped around the basketball court doing older kid things. A group of kids around his age were bouncing a red ball around. He watched them for a while. He'd never asked if he could join before. Maybe if he asked, they would let him play. Then maybe they'd be his friends. He came closer and folded his hands behind his back._

          "Can I play?" he asked, looking up at them shyly. The kids stopped playing and looked at each other uncertainly. One of the kids shrugged a little and looked like he was about to say yes. A girl with long pigtails interrupted him.

          "No, you can't," she said.

          "Why not?" the boy asked.

          "'Cuz you're a _Winner _orphan. You don't have a last name."

          "_I _heard he doesn't even have a real first name," an older boy said. 

          "I bet you don't have any real parents either!" the girl said, tossing her pigtails.

          "Yeah, you were probably made in a test tube just like all the other Winners," said the older boy. "'Cept that they didn't _want you. 'Cuz you're a reject!" _

The girl laughed.       

          "Yeah! So get out of here reject!" she said. The boy sighed and walked away, kicking the dirt. He'd read about test tube babies on the linkup. It said that some people didn't like test tube babies because they weren't natural. But if the babies grew up to look like regular kids, what difference did it make? 

          He went to his usual spot by the chain link fence and sat, tucking his legs underneath him. Leaning back against the fence, he titled his head back to look at the sky. It was a pretty day. But no clouds. The boy watched the empty blue sky for a while and listened to the kids playing. Then he heard footsteps. Someone was walking on the sidewalk beside the fence…and coming closer. The person stopped right where the boy was and the fence bulged a bit as the person leaned against it.

          "How are you doing, kid?" 

          The boy's heart leapt at the sound of Odin's voice. It had been such a long time! He'd almost forgotten what Odin's face looked like. He started to sit up.

          "I'm not anyone you know," Odin said. "I'm just a man leaning against the fence." Oh. The boy rested back against the fence and returned his gaze to the sky.

          "No one likes me here," the boy said. 

          "Who cares? You don't have to be liked to blend in. You're doing a good job so far, kid."  
          "I like Miss Celia though! She's really pretty and nice and sweet," the boy said, beaming. 

"Don't get too attached. Remember, you've got a mission to do."  
          The boy looked hard at the ground. Oh right. The mission. What was it again? The boy wrinkled his nose, trying to remember. Oh yeah. He had to get information from some guy with a funny name… Akeem something. 

"Is your teddy bear in a safe place?" Odin asked. The boy gritted his teeth. Uh-oh! He didn't know! He'd forgotten all about it. He could almost remember seeing it on his bed but he wasn't too sure. 

"Kiiid?" Odin said in an almost angry voice.

"I…it's safe," the boy said.

"It better be. If anyone finds what's in that thing…"

"Th…they won't."  
          "Good. Anyway, kid, I just came to tell you that it might just take a month after all. Todai decided to go to L-1." 

L-1? That was the colony the boy was from. He could remember Odin telling him long ago.

"Why'd he go there?" 

"I don't know. Something about visiting his daughter's grave. He'll be back in a week or two. I'll come and tell you when he's back. Until then, just stay here and try not to get yourself adopted."

---

          Not there. Not there, not there. The boy sat, panting. He glanced blindly at the clothes littered around the floor and the tangled bed sheets. The teddy bear was gone. He put a hand to his forehead and shut his eyes tightly. He couldn't lose it! If Odin found out… 

          Suddenly a loud bell rang through the school, making the boy's heart jump.  Before he quite realized it, he was on his feet, hands clenched. The bell rang again. The boy forced himself to relax. It was just the dinner bell. He looked around the small room again. Everyone was supposed to go to dinner. Miss Celia would be upset with him if he was late. Maybe…maybe the teddy bear would turn up after dinner. 

          He went down to the cafeteria. He sat in his usual place among the other little kids. They ignored him for the most part, even though he was in the middle. Their silly talk flew back and forth around him. Someone said this which made someone else say that. Someone had a crush on someone else. Some new video game was better then all the other video games. Sometimes the boy wished he could join their conversation, but he never had anything to say. So the boy ate his food in peace and listened. Suddenly someone smacked him hard in the back of the head. 

          "Hey dweeb!" said a familiar voice. The boy turned and glared at Dakeem. The cheerful talk around the table died down as the teenagers loomed over them. The little kids were afraid of them, but the boy wasn't. What could they do to him besides hurt him? 

          "Hey, all you little twerps want to know something? This little _baby _sleeps with a teddy bear," Dakeem said, pointing a finger at the boy. 

          "A teddy bear?" another kid said.

          "The reject sleeps with a teddy bear!" 

          The boy narrowed his eyes, ignoring the comments that flew around him. The teddy bear… Dakeem must have stolen it while the boy was outside. The teenager grinned, knowing he had the upper hand.

          "Awww… is he mad cuz now everyone knows what a loser is?" Dakeem asked in a baby voice. The boy stood.

          "Give it back," he said, holding out his hand. The teenager leaned closer to him, his tanned face nearly pressed against the boy's own. Dakeem wasn't smiling any longer.

          "How are you going to make me, dweeb?"

          The boy stared at the teenager. Then put his index finger against Dakeem's head like a gun.

          "Bang," he whispered, staring straight into Dakeem's eyes. The teenager stood up so fast that the boy's nail scraped his forehead a little. Dakeem put a hand behind his head and laughed. 

          "Oh you're going to shoot me? Yeah, like I'm afraid of you."

          "You're sweating," the boy said, and it was true. A little droplet of sweat was rolling down the teenager's cheek. Dakeem's smile abruptly disappeared.

          "You think you're so smart, don'tcha?" He pulled a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and waved it around. "If you want your stupid bear back…"  He slapped the note into the boy's hand. 

          "Boys…" said Old Mrs. Azul, waddling up to them. She was the school nurse and fatter then anyone the boy had ever seen. "I know you like to talk to your friends but you had better sit down," she said, smiling her big lipped smile. "Miss Celia wants to make an announcement."

          Dakeem walked away with his group. Mrs. Azul smiled at the boy.

          "It's so nice that you're finally making friends here, Hikari," she said. The boy shook his head and sat down. Mrs. Azul didn't understand anything. The old nurse tapped his shoulder lightly. When she had finally waddled away, the boy started to open the note. Fingers grasped the edge of the paper but the boy tightened his grip, preventing it from being taken from him.

          "Why don't we see what little note you got?" It was the girl from the playground. The boy glared at her. Her mean face disappeared after a moment and she pulled her hand away. When the others looked at her in surprise, she tossed her hair.

          "It's probably stupid anyway."

          The boy held the letter closer to him and opened it. Dakeem's writing was surprisingly neat. The boy wouldn't think that a big idiot like him even knew how to spell his own name. 

          'Meet us tomorrow night by the oak tree if you want your bear back. If you don't do what we say we'll tear it apart. And don't go squealing or we'll tear it apart anyway. Got that dweeb?'  

          The boy clenched his hand. If they did tear it apart… How could he have let that happen? How could he have let the teddy bear be stolen? That was dumb. Odin said that it was dumb mistakes that lead to getting killed. 

          The high pitched whine of a microphone filled the room, distracting the boy from his thoughts. Miss Celia was standing behind it. The boy forgot his problems for a moment as he watched her. 

          "I'm sorry to tell you all, but next week's fun day has been canceled." A groan went up from around the room. The boy wasn't fooled though. Her eyes were dancing above her little frown. She had a surprise for them.

          "I'm afraid you all will just have to have it tomorrow." Cheering. Mostly from the boy's table. Miss Celia let it go on for a bit more, then held up her hand, a signal for everyone to be quiet. Even though all the kids liked Miss Celia and listened to what she said, it took the room a moment to calm down. She didn't seem to mind. Miss Celia never seemed to mind.

          "I have another surprise for you. Tomorrow, Mr. Winner is coming to visit us."

          There was a kind of quiet around the room then. The kids at his table didn't seem to understand. But the teenagers were muttering among themselves. Finally a teenager raised his hand.

          "Yes?"

          "You…you mean the _real _Mr. Winner, right?" 

          "Of course," Miss Celia said with a laugh. "It's been so long since his last visit, he wants to see how you all are doing."  The teenagers started talking among themselves again, louder this time. Miss Celia stepped down from the small platform. Soon the room was as loud as ever. The boy read the note again. He couldn't help but wonder what Dakeem would have him do. Whatever it was, he would do it. He wouldn't let them ruin his first mission. He wouldn't let Odin down.

---

          Fun day was held in the gymnasium. It had all sorts of games and snacks and even a clown that made balloon animals. The boy sat down on a swing and stared at the ground between his feet. It wasn't any fun for him. Everyone else was with their friends. Even Dakeem had been excused from his punishment. The boy sighed. Maybe some people weren't meant to have friends. 

          The playground was quiet. So quiet. He was glad. He didn't want to be in there where kids were laughing. It made him want to join. It was so quiet he could hear the door open. It was probably someone looking for him. A teacher maybe. Or maybe even Miss Celia. He hoped not. He didn't want to see Miss Celia right now. He didn't want to see anyone right now. 

          The footsteps that came down the stone steps into the hard packed playground dirt didn't sound like an adult. It didn't even sound like Dakeem. It was a kid. The boy sighed. Probably the girl again. She started teasing him lately too. He kicked his feet and waited for the teasing to come. Instead, a strange thing happened, there was a small sigh and the swing next to him squealed a bit. 

          "I hate it in there," said a strange voice. The boy looked over, not moving his eyes up, and saw a pair of really shiny black shoes. He didn't know anyone around here who had shiny black shoes.

          "They either love me because I'm rich or hate me for the same reason," the kid continued. It was as if the kid hadn't even noticed the boy was there. The boy looked up into the kid's face. It was a boy too, with blond hair and blue-green eyes. The blond boy smiled at him.

          "Hi! My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. What's yours?" 

          "H…Hikari," the boy said, a little startled by the change in attitude. Quatre leaned his head against the chain of the swing and glanced at him.

          "So why aren't you in there with your friends? Why are you out here all alone?"  
          "I don't have friends," the boy said, looking away. 

          "Oh." There was another little squeak as Quatre started to swing.        

          "I don't have any friends either," the blond continued. "There's no one to play with at home. Except for Nanny Ellen. She's not much fun though."  
          "Neither is Odin," the boy muttered to himself. Whether Quatre heard this or not, he didn't comment. Instead, the squeaking increased as the blond went higher.

          "Why don't you swing, Hikari?" Quatre asked. The boy's face grew hot and he stared hard at the ground. He couldn't swing. All normal kids could. But he wasn't _normal. _

          "Can't," the boy muttered. Quatre dragged his feet across the ground, getting dust all over his shoes. When he finally stopped, the boy could feel him staring.

          "You don't know how to swing?" 

          "No." 

          Quatre laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh like Dakeem's. Or even like Odin's angry laugh. It was nice…just like Miss Celia's. 

          "I can teach you how to swing. It's so easy! I'm sure you can do it," Quatre said brightly. The boy straightened and watched what Quatre did.

          "First," the blond said. "You have to stand up but still kind of sit on the swing. Just go up as far as you can without actually standing." The boy did so. Quatre nodded.

          "Then, you lift your feet up and you'll go forward. Then, when you start to go back again, just sit up, like this." Quatre swung a few times, then put his feet back on the ground and smiled encouragingly. 

          "Now you try!"         

          At first, it was a little hard to get it right. But pretty soon, the boy was flying. Baack and fooorth. Baack and fooorth. The wind sung through his hair and the sun smiled on his face. Quatre swung beside him. They swung together for a bit, then the boy started going back when Quatre was going forward. The blond was laughing and, the boy realized, so was he. He hadn't really laughed in a loooong time.

          "You can do something else fun too!" Quatre said.

          "What?"  
          "Let gooo!" And with that, Quatre flew off the swing and landed, butt first, on the ground. The boy let go too. For a second he was flying. Then he was on hands and knees, the wind almost knocked out of him.

          Next they went on the spinny-twirly. Quatre couldn't spin it really fast with someone on it, so the boy spun him. He ran around with the spinny-twirly as fast as he could, and then jumped on. They went around and around and around, laughing for the pure fun of laughing. Finally, the spinny-twirly creaked to a stop. 

          "Again?" the boy asked. Quatre shook his head, laughing so hard he couldn't speak. Quatre slid off the spinny-twirly, stumbled for a bit, then landed on the ground, spreading his arms out and gazing at the sky. The boy stumbled to lie beside him. The clouds were spinning. It was quiet for a long time. But a nice quiet.

          "Master Quatre!" a man called. The blond heaved a sigh and sat up, his face suddenly cold.

          "What?" he asked. His voice was different too. The boy stared at him. Was this really the same person?

          "Master Quatre! There you are! You're father has been really worried about you."

          "I didn't think he would notice," Quatre said, standing and brushing off his pants. "Or is it time for us to play 'happy family' again?"

          "Master Quatre," the man said. It almost sounded like the man was scolding him. Quatre looked down at the boy and a little smile lifted his face.

          "I'll see you again Hikari. I don't know how, but I'll arrange it. You're really fun!" 

          The boy propped himself up on his elbows and watched Quatre walk away. Then he laid back down and closed his eyes. The sun was warm. But it would be night soon. The thought made him frown. He was supposed to meet Dakeem tonight. Meet him to get the teddy bear back. Even if he didn't really want what was inside it anymore, he needed to make Odin proud.

---

Note: Again. It couuuuld have happened. 

Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam Wing would you see me writing fanfiction about it? … … … probably. *gryn*


	8. Ice Blue Eyes: Part III

          It was night. The crickets chirped softly in the grass. Fireflies rose into the soft air. In font of the boy a ladder rested against the high oak. He couldn't see anything in the shadowy branches where it ended. Dakeem and his friends had surrounded him. They were trying to cut off his escape. If he wanted to, the boy could have easily gotten away.

          "It's up there. On the branch right above the ladder. Go and get it dweeb. That is, if your not scared," Dakeem said. The boy looked at them. By the grins on their faces he could tell they were hiding something. Unfortunately they had two things on him. There were more of them and they had the teddy bear. The boy started to climb the ladder. 

          When he was about halfway up, the ladder began to shake violently. The boy hugged it, lightly banging his head against the metal rung. Below him, the teenagers laughed.

          "Don't fall little dork!" one of the teenagers said.

          "Yeah. You might get blood all over the tree when you splat," Dakeem said. 

          _And you might get blood on your shirt when I shoot a hole through your head,_ the boy thought. The anger behind the thought surprised him. He'd never felt angry before. Not in this way. Suddenly he could see the picture in his mind. Him lifting the gun. Dakeem's eyes going wide with surprise. Then BAM. A perfect, round, hole right through his brown forehead. 

          He scrambled onto the branch above the ladder. The stuffed animal wasn't there. Not that he really expected it to be. There was a scraping noise. The boy turned just in time to see the ladder being taken away. He glared at the teenagers. They were laughing again. The anger curled up in him. Hot fire burning his throat. Dakeem held up the teddy bear.

          "Missing something? If you want it back, you're gonna have to jump." 

          The boy was out of the tree before Dakeem had even finished the words. His feet hit the ground first. There was a popping noise and suddenly he found himself rolled up on the grass, clutching his ankle. The teenagers loomed over him. 

          "He actually did it," one of them whispered. 

          "Man, Dakeem, if Miss Celia finds out we're gonna be in deep," another teenager said. Dakeem's eyes narrowed. The boy sat up, still absently clutching his ankle.

          "Give me the bear," he said. Dakeem folded his arms.

          "How do we know you're not going to squeal?"

          "I won't," the boy said, slowly getting to his feet. He held out his hand for the bear. Dakeem smirked.

          "No. I think I'll keep this. Just in case you might be…tempted." 

          The boy rammed his fist into Dakeem's stomach, putting his whole weight behind the punch. The teenager fell to his knees, dropping the teddy bear. All the world seemed to go silent as the boy watched the toy fall slowly to the ground. If it went off. If it went off.  The teddy bear hit the grass. Nothing happened. The boy's heart started to beat again. He picked up the bear by the arm. 

          "You…little….brat," Dakeem wheezed. The boy glared at him. Wanting to shoot him. Wanting to see him fall and not move. Wanting it…but knowing he couldn't. Not now…

          Instead, the boy limped away. His ankle was on fire. He must have broken it. Just the simple act of walking made sweat trail down his face. Once inside the building, the boy leaned against the wall, wincing a little. It was a tradition, Odin said. The boy simply could not get past a mission without breaking something. Fortunately, Odin had always been there to put the bone on course again. The man had even shown him how. The boy had never tried it though. Miss Celia might be able to help. 

          The boy shoved that thought from his mind almost as soon as it had entered. He'd have to tell her what happened. If Dakeem got into trouble again, he'd only be worse. So there was no other option. The boy hobbled toward the nurse's office.

          He turned the corner and came face to face with Miss Celia. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise. The boy froze. He was caught. Getting caught meant getting into trouble. 

          "Hikari! What are you doing up?" she said. He shrugged and looked at his feet. Now he would probably have to wait until tomorrow to get a bandage. 

          "Mrs. Azul said she heard some children playing outside her window. Was that you?"

          The boy shrugged again. Miss Celia came closer. 

          "You looked bruised. And what happened to your ankle? It looks swollen. Hikari, you have to tell me what happened.

          "I fell," the boy said. Which was true enough. 

          "You have to tell me the truth." Miss Celia knelt to his eye level. "I can't help you unless you tell me." She sounded so worried. Worried about him. The boy remained silent. He couldn't risk any more trouble with Dakeem. For a long time, no one said anything. After a while, she sighed.

          "Very well. I'm sorry to have to do this, but there is very strong evidence that you were playing outside. You're grounded to your room for a week. That means no playing outside, no computer lab, no library. Unless…you can tell me what happened." 

          The boy shook his head and started to limp back to his room. He would have to find something there to bind his ankle up.

          "Don't you want Mrs. Azul to look at your ankle?" Miss Celia asked. The boy didn't stop walking. 

          "No. It's just a sprain…," he muttered. 

          "Well we'll see how it is tomorrow."

---

          The boy absently kicked his legs as he waited. It was brilliantly sunny outside but the hospital's small window didn't let half of the light in. He glanced around the room. He was so used to places like these. More often then not, this was where he was at the end of a mission. Especially if he'd gotten separated from Odin. He never stayed in one long though. That was dangerous.

          Miss Celia was sitting by the door. She had a magazine open, but every now and then she would look at him. The boy clutched the teddy bear in memory. He still hadn't told her what Dakeem had done.  She was suspicious, he knew, but unless he told her, she couldn't prove anything. He wished he didn't have to hide from her. He didn't like hiding things from Miss Celia. But what if Dakeem stole the bear again? Or worse. What if he tore it up and found the gun? Having no lab time was a small price to pay. 

          After what seemed like forever, the door creaked open and a doctor came in. The boy eyed the stethoscope. He hated those things. They were always so cold. He relaxed a little when the man didn't use it. Instead, he looked at his clipboard and adjusted his thick glasses.

          "Well ma'am. It appears this lad has had some fall. His right ankle is broken in two places." 

          "Oh," Miss Celia said with a gasp. The boy frowned. That wasn't right. The bone should be set. He'd done it last night. Or at least he'd tried. He might have done it wrong though. 

          "Not to worry though. Kids patch up fast," the man said with a small smile. "We'll just slap a cast on him. He'll be right as rain in a few weeks." The doctor rifled through his notes and frowned.

          "Is there something else wrong?" Miss Celia asked.

          "You say that you know nothing of his past Miss Winner?" 

          "No. He just arrived two weeks ago. He hasn't told us much."  
          "It's a good thing he found his way to you. This poor boy looks like he's had his bones reset many times. Looks like he had quite a violent history." 

          "Yes…" Miss Celia said. They were both giving him thoughtful, grownup, looks. The boy squirmed uncomfortably. He hoped that the doctor didn't know how he'd gotten his bones broken. He would get in so much trouble. The sad smile that crossed Miss Celia's face made the boy relax. 

          "Anyway, the nurse will be in here soon to get his cast ready. You, Mister Hikari, had better take more care in the future," the doctor said, ruffling his hair. When he left, Miss Celia patted the boy's hand.

          "It's going to be okay. My room is on your floor. How about this, we'll buy some special food for my little refrigerator. That way, you won't have to go downstairs to eat." 

          The boy smiled and nodded. He would like that very much. It would just be him and Miss Celia. It would be _special. Just thinking about it made the rest of the hospital visit fly by. Soon they were at the supermarket. Miss Celia hadn't wanted him to come at first, be he'd convinced her. Miss Celia was the only good thing about the orphanage. The bad thing was that he had to use a crutch. He'd never needed to use one before. People kept staring at him and giving him sad looks. He was beginning to get annoyed with that._

          "So what kind of cereal would you like?" Miss Celia asked.

          "Chocolate!" the boy said automatically. The woman laughed.

          "How did I see that coming? All right. Chocolate it is." 

          "Yay!" The boy hobbled down the rows of cereal. There was this one that was really really good. Odin had let him have some once. Odin never let him have it again though. He'd said something about the boy bouncing off the walls. The boy hadn't bounced off any walls that he could remember. 

          Suddenly there it was. A big gold box with a funny looking bear over a bowl of cereal. Chocolate Space Blasts. And there was one… box… left… The boy reached for it. A big hand closed over the box just as his fingers brushed the cardboard. Heeey! He looked up. Odin looked down at him, eyes amused.

          "You know, you really don't need this, kid. It'll rot your teeth."  
          "Yes it will," Miss Celia said, smiling at the boy. "But you know children."  
          "Yeah, guess I do," Odin said, handing the box to him. The boy watched Odin walk away. The man wanted to meet with him. Otherwise he wouldn't have talked. How could he get away from Miss Celia though? He hobbled back to the cart and dropped the box in.

          "Now let's see. We need some milk." Miss Celia said.

          "I'll get it! I know where it is."  

          "Are you sure?" 

          "I can do it," the boy said with a smile. "I really can! Pleaaase?" She laughed. 

          "All right Hikari. It's good to see you so animated again." 

          Odin met him en route, falling in step casually beside him. The boy slowed his pace a little. Was it time for his mission now? The boy didn't want his mission now. He wanted to stay with Miss Celia. Odin chuckled and the boy looked up at him.

          "Just couldn't help it…huh kid? You _had to break something."  The boy shrugged. It would not be a good idea to talk about this to Odin. The man would probably be really mad. Especially since he'd __promised not to forget about the teddy bear._

          "Who was that kid by the way?" Odin asked. 

          "What kid?"

          "The kid you were playing with yesterday." 

          "Quatre." The boy beamed. "He's really nice! He's my friend…" the boy trailed off as Odin's eyes widened. The man stopped walking and looked at him full in the face. 

          "You…you don't mean Quatre as in Quatre Winner do you?" 

          "Yeeaah…" the boy said.  Strong fingers wrapped around his arm again. The boy stared. Odin was mad. Really mad.

          "You little idiot!" he snarled in a low voice. "Didn't I teach you anything?"

          "Wh…what?" the boy said, trying to struggle out of his grip.

          "I don't care _how _good a shot you are. You're still a kid and if you let something slip and that kid tells his father…. Not only would _we _get into trouble, our entire organization could be exposed. I don't know about you but _I _don't want to be killed."       

          People were starting to stare at them. Odin suddenly let him go. The expression on the man's face made the boy shiver inside. He wasn't angry anymore. Instead, his green eyes were cold. It was like looking into the mouth of a gun. If he messed up…. Odin was going to do something terrible. 

          "Hey!" Miss Celia called. Odin walked away. The boy watched him leave. Miss Celia started talking to him, asking him questions. He didn't pay attention. Odin was going to do something bad. Something really bad. The boy looked into Miss Celia's kind blue eyes. He didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially not her. But…but Odin wouldn't shoot her. She was part of the Winner family. Odin would never shoot someone so powerful unless he was contracted to.  There was no denying the look he had though. That look he only used when he was getting ready to shoot someone. The boy looked down at the tiled floor. Quatre was his best friend. His only friend… But assassins weren't supposed to have any friends. No friends, no family. No one at all.

----

          This place was magical. Happy music floated in the air, along with the sounds of whirring machinery and laughing, screaming people. Everywhere were colorful stands, with all sorts of stuffed animals in them. A Ferris wheel stood in the very center. Other rides were grouped around it. They had names like: "The Hurl Whirl" and "Space Swings." The boy gaped. He'd never seen anything like this. There was a kind laugh above him.

          "Do you like it?"

          "This must be where the fairies live," the boy said, looking up at the blond woman. She laughed again.

          "Maybe." 

          This place looked fun. Still, the boy wondered why she had taken him here. It had been a week and a half since the incident with Dakeem. The boy had been in Miss Celia's company a lot lately. By the way she looked so excited; he could tell this day was special. But why here? And why were they just standing around?

          "This carnival is in honor of my father's birthday. We used to have carnivals and things all the time when I was little. But the Alliance changed all that. Now this is the only time we have to play."      

          "Can we do something?"

          "In a bit," Miss Celia said, looking at her watch. "Master Quatre will be here soon." 

          "Really?! Quatre?!" Yay! It had been so long since he'd last seen him! Then the boy remembered what he'd been told to do. He had to stop being friends with Quatre. Odin said so. Maybe… Maybe Odin wouldn't do anything. And the boy would be careful! He could still have a friend. This livened his spirits and he was back to smiling. Then it hit him what Miss Celia had said.

          "Isn't…Quatre your brother Miss Celia?" 

          "Mm-hmm." 

          "Oh…" The boy blinked. That was confusing. There were lots of brothers and sisters at the orphanage. None of them ever called the other one master. He'd heard them call their siblings other names. Maybe Miss Celia was talking about a different kind of brother…or something.          

          "By the way." Miss Celia bent so she was closer to his ear. "Don't tell Quatre who I am okay? I mean, that I'm his sister."

          "Why not?"  
          "Because he doesn't need to know." She sighed and straightened. "I guess Father doesn't want him to become overwhelmed with family. I can understand I guess but… Sometimes I think he just wants to keep Quatre for himself." She smiled down at the boy, blue eyes dancing. "Not that I blame him." 

          "Hikari!" a bright, happy voice called. The boy smiled without even trying. Quatre was running up to him, something snuggled in his arms. 

          "Hi," the boy said, trying to see what his friend had. It was a yellow…thing…with a big red bow around its neck. Quatre's smile widened.

          "I heard you got hurt, so I got you something." He held the thing out to the boy with both hands. The boy was so stunned; all he could do was stare. Quatre was…giving him something? Like…a birthday present. Quatre frowned.

          "You…you don't like it?"

          "I do!" the boy said, setting the teddy bear on the ground and taking the stuffed animal. It looked almost like a horse. But the face was wrong. Instead of hooves it had big yellow feet. The boy turned the thing over in his hands.

          "What is it?" he asked. Quatre giggled.

          "It's a camel! They live in the desert. That's a place on earth with lots and lots of sand." 

          "Thank you…" the boy said, staring into the camel's odd face. This was the most special thing in the world. Specialer then anything. The boy was so caught up by the camel, he didn't even notice when Miss Celia took the teddy bear. He didn't realize it until she spoke.

          "I'd better take that too. You don't want to lose it." 

          The boy nodded. It was a smart decision. He frowned at the teddy bear. He didn't want to lose that here… But… He wasn't sure if he wanted to let Miss Celia take care of it. She smiled.

          "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to Mr. Bear. You two go play… And be careful with your ankle."  
          The boy nodded. Pretty soon, him and Quatre were walking through the carnival. A lot of people were smiling at them. People called out Quatre's name too, but he didn't seem to hear them. 

          "So where do you want to go first?" Quatre asked. "The rides are the same every year. But now I'm old enough to go on the Hurl Whirl."     

          "That sounds like fun," the boy said. Quatre smiled, then looked down at the boy's ankle and frowned. The boy shook his head.  "Don't worry. I'll be fine."  
          "Are you sure? Miss Celia did say to be careful."  
          "I'll be okay. Let's go!" 

          "Yeah!"

          The Hurl Whirl made the spinny-twirly seem to stand still. It went up and down and back and forth and spun around on its side. At first, the boy was a little alarmed at Quatre's screaming. Then he realized he was just doing it for fun and screamed too. When the ride was over, the boy stumbled so much he could barely walk. Quatre put an arm around him to help steady him. Together, the two weaved their way through the crowds. They got big cones of fluffy blue stuff. It looked like the stuff clouds were made of. When he said this, Quatre only giggled and told him it was cotton candy. After that, they went on the Hurl Whirl, then the Zero Gravity chamber, then the Hurl Whirl. By the time of their last ride, the boy's ankle was throbbing. He didn't care. He was having too much fun.

          "This is wonderful!" Quatre said. "I've never had so much fun Hikari!" 

          "Me either!" 

          They stopped by a place selling ice cream. A man in a black suit stood there. The boy stared at him. A security guard. The boy scanned the crowds and spotted four more. 

          "Don't mind them," Quatre said, licking his ice cream and getting chocolate on his nose. "They follow me everywhere."   
          The boy understood. Quatre was the heir to the Winner estate. He was really valuable. As they went through the carnival, he spotted six more. They were all inside the carnival though. That was stupid. Buildings were all around them. Someone with good aim could shoot him from a high window. Unless of course they had all ready secured the premises. The boy glanced up at the buildings. No assassin lurked in the empty windows. Something made him turn and what he saw made his heart stop. Peering from the window was the muzzle of a rifle. An assassin's rifle. Odin. It was trained on Quatre. The boy knew it. Through the telescopic lens, the boy knew Odin could clearly see his face. He shook his head. _Don't shoot him, he begged silently. __Please. _

          The gun moved. Just a slight shift. But what it said to the boy was louder then words. If he didn't stop being friends with Quatre… But… But what could he do!? He couldn't just say he didn't want to be friends! Quatre would never believe him! He had to do something. Then he knew. It hurt. But he knew what he had to say. 

          "Is there something wrong?" Quatre asked. The boy turned to face his friend. He could feel the rifle's presence. A prickling across the back of his neck. The boy balled up his fist and punched Quatre hard across the face. Quatre fell, staring up at him with wide eyes. Silence descended over the carnival and the boy knew he was going to get into trouble. Quatre put a hand to his cheek.

          "H…Hikari…"

          "You're a reject." The boy wanted to yell, but his voice came out hard. Cold. Like Odin's eyes. "You're a test tube baby. You're not _natural. I hate people like you." _

          Quatre's lower lip trembled and his eyes filled up with tears. The boy looked away. A woman walked up to him. One he didn't know. Had never seen. Her lips were in a thin line and her eyes were livid. She lifted her hand and slapped him, hard. His head was ringing but he could still hear her angry voice.

          "How _dare _you hurt Master Quatre!" she snapped. Then everything happened. Rough hands grabbed at him and soon he found himself surrounded by angry adult faces. 

          "You aren't worthy to kiss his boots you little punk!" a man snapped. Another stinging slap ran across his cheek. The other adults started yelling at him. Calling him names. A large hand smacked across the back of his head, another one upside his ear. 

          "Stop!" Quatre said. Amazingly, the adults quieted down. The boy didn't think anyone would ever listen to a kid. The adults parted a little and the boy could see Quatre. His eyes were like ice. 

          "Let him go," Quatre said.

          "But…Master Quatre," a woman said.

          "Now." This order was obeyed too. Quatre walked up to him. The adults parted and moved aside. The boy suddenly felt very alone. He knew the punch was coming before it connected. He was surprised to find himself on the ground though. He didn't think the blond could punch that hard. The boy looked up at him. Quatre was angry. Very angry. But tears were running down his face. 

          "I hate people like you. I do. But you know what? If I die, then they can make more copies of me. But if I kill you, you're just going to be dead. What do you think about that?"

          The boy got to his feet. All he felt was cold inside. He stared into Quatre's eyes. 

          "I think you should kill me. My life isn't worth anything anyway." The words came from his heart. They were a little scary…but they were true. He lived in hiding. No name. No family. No past. No future. If he was dead, who would care? 

          Quatre smiled a little. But it was an angry smile. Like Odin did. 

          "My life isn't worth anything either. Looks like we have something in common huh?"

          "Master Quatre!" someone said. 

          "Shut up. I want to go home." He walked off. The boy watched him go. It didn't matter though… How he was born. Quatre was a good person. The people defended him. Not because they had to, but because they loved him. Quatre shone and didn't even know it. Not like the boy. Inside, all the boy had was darkness and nightmares. 

          But at least now, he knew what he had to do. The mission. The mission was the only reason he existed. He had to gather information on Akemi Todai, and perhaps even shoot him. It wasn't a problem. It was what he was born for. 

---

          The boy stared out the window. Miss Celia was angry. He'd never seen her this angry. She was actually shouting. 

          "I am very, _very _disappointed in you! How could you even _say _something like that?! Quatre is lonely enough as it is!" She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. The boy watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was crying. A part of him wanted to cry too.

          "How could you do that? Pretend to be his friend and just…just…rip his heart out! How could you be so heartless? You must have no feelings to do that! You're nothing but a cruel little monster!"

          Silence followed that. The boy leaned his cheek against the cool glass. Oh well. She'd loved him for a while. It was more then he could ever remember having. 

          "Hi…Hikari?" she said in a near whisper. "Hikari? I…I'm sorry. I…I just…"

          "My name isn't Hikari," the boy said. "I don't have a name. And don't be sorry. Monsters hide in the dark don't they? That's just what I am." But not heartless. Never heartless. He would never forget how he loved her. Never.

----

Note: Yes. I know. In some parts he acts six, in other parts he acts twelve. But it all depends on his mentality at the moment. ^^; I do know what I'm doing, really! 

Oh yes! D-A-R-K next chapter. Might want a flashlight. 

Disclaimer: Don't own it. 

Wufei: Thank the gods for small favors.

Shaddup! 


	9. Ice Blue Eyes Part IV

          The boy gazed out the window. The kids were playing in the playground. He never went on the playground anymore… Or the computer lab. Mostly he just stayed in his room. It was easier to avoid Dakeem that way. Miss Celia too. 

          After the carnival, everything had changed. She seemed to avoid him as much as he did her. There was no more special between them. The boy didn't like the orphanage anymore. There was nothing here. It was like outer space. There were lots of stars…but he was still alone. 

          A car pulled around to the gate. The doors open and a bodyguard stepped out. Then another. Finally, Akemi Todai. Strangely, that was all. There were no other bodyguards. Then again, Todai probably felt safe on L-4.

          The boy pointed his finger at the man. He could shoot him from right here. Get him right through the head. No one would ever know who did it. The boy turned from the window and snatched the teddy bear off the bed. The camel stared at him from the bed. With a frown, the boy pulled the covers over it. He didn't like it anymore. It hurt. 

          He held the teddy bear to him and left the room. The halls were empty. But downstairs it was a different story. The foyer was full, mostly with the older kids. Their voices were loud with excitement. Todai was rich. Better still, he was looking for an heir. They all wanted to try and get him. 

The boy sat on the steps opposite the door. When Todai came in, the boy would be the first thing he saw. The boy couldn't let anyone else get adopted. He hugged the teddy bear under his chin. All he had to do was look cute and pathetic. There were so many other kids though. They were all cuter and even more pathetic. What if the boy didn't get adopted? Odin would get mad at him. Odin might even not like him anymore, like Miss Celia. 

He glanced at her. She was helping Mrs. Azul keep order. Her voice, though gentle, kept a lot of control. No one wanted to anger Miss Celia. She was a truly nice person. Nice to people who deserved it anyway...

There was a polite knock at the door. A hush fell over the room. It seemed like Miss Celia was walking extra slow. She reached the door and turned the knob. The door swung open. Todai stood there. Light came in around him and splashed on the floor. As soon as he stepped inside, the talking started up again. The kids all rushed at him at once, trying to get his attention. The boy sat where he was. Watching.

At first it didn't seem like Todai would notice him. Then, the man's blue eyes met his. Todai stared for a long time. The boy stared back. The kids stopped talking and, almost as one, all turned to look at him. 

          "Wh…what's his name?" Todai finally asked. 

          "That's Hikari," Miss Celia said. The man's eyes widened and he took a step forward.

          "Hi...Hikari?" The man stumbled over to him. Eyes wide. Hand outstretched. Todai knelt and his warm hand brushed across the boy's cheek. The boy's throat went dry. There was something inside him. Trying to get out. Something from long ago. He reached up and touched the old man's cheek.

          "Booboo?" the words whispered out of his mouth. His heart was speaking again. A noise came from Todai that was somewhere between a gasp and a choke. The boy suddenly found himself wrapped in warm arms. _This is home, _his heart said. _This is safe… _The boy closed his eyes. No. He couldn't get attached. Odin told him not to get attached. The camel was painful enough.

          "I finally found you. Finally…" Todai whispered. A thought chilled the boy's body. A thought that he knew was true as soon as it floated across his mind. Todai…was embracing his death.

----

          The boy crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. In the bed opposite him, Nurse snored softly. Toys rose up around the room, looking like squishy mountains in the darkness. A nightlight shaped like a pony glowed beside the bed.

          The room was so full of…stuff. Lot's of stuff. For the first few weeks, Todai did nothing but buy him things. Stuffed animals, coloring books, toy mobile suits. He even had his own TV.  The boy hated it. There was so much…but it all seemed so…empty somehow. Now, Todai was away all the time. 

          What annoyed him the most, though, was that he couldn't do his mission. Everywhere he went, Nurse followed him. He did not like her. She was at least a thousand years old and very crabby. Despite her age, she managed to keep up with him. She made sure he kept to 'acceptable' parts of the house. She'd even convinced Todai that he was too little to be allowed on computers. 

          Somewhere in the house the grandfather clock chimed. It was two o'clock. The boy slipped out of bed and quietly opened the door. He slipped into the soft carpet of the hall and eased the door shut behind him. Nurse was a light sleeper. Once free, he breathed a sigh of relief. The boy padded down the empty halls. He couldn't go on the computer. After nine, all computer operations were closely monitored. That was when the main security staff went to bed. Even so, the boy could explore the house.

          In every hall he turned, red lights peered at him from shadowy corners. Video cameras. They all fed back to a surveillance room two floors below. Luckily for the boy, the nightshift didn't seem to care what he did. Sometimes they even invited him for a snack. The boy had learned much from them. Todai had become so rich, solely because of the Winner family. The Winner's backed whatever decision he made. The security was even provided by the Winner estate. 

          From what the boy had seen, Todai was not a stupid man. Whatever information he gave to the Alliance would not be from his own house. It seemed Todai was innocent. When Todai wasn't home, he was with the head of the Winner family. The news, security _and _Todai himself had said so. 

          The boy was glad about that. If that were true, then this mission was easy. All he had to do was tell Odin what he found out. Odin might even tell him he'd done a good job! Then maybe…maybe he could go back to live with Miss Celia. Then he'd tell her he was sorry and she'd like him again. He could be friends with Quatre too! And maybe…maybe Odin would turn good and maybe marry Miss Celia and then he would have a _real family! The boy smiled to himself. _

          The boy yawned. His eyes got tired and he found himself stumbling a bit. He couldn't go back to bed yet. There was a door at the end of this hall. He'd never seen what was behind it. He'd always gotten sleepy and turned back. The boy rubbed his eyes and forced himself to keep walking. Finally, he reached the door. 

          Just then, a guard making his rounds came the other way. The guard grinned at him, touching the brim of his cap. 

          "Having your nightly stroll Master Hikari?" 

          "What's in here?"

          "That's just Mr. Todai's study. Nothing to interest a kid like you." 

          "Can I see?" the boy asked. The guard shrugged and swung open the door. It was dark. There…was something missing. The guard turned on the lights to reveal a high desk, chairs and lots of bookcases.

          "See? Nothing interesting."  When the room was dark again…the boy realized what was missing. There were no red lights. For some reason, Todai's study didn't have cameras.  A yawn made tears come to his eyes. 

          "You look bushed Master Hikari. Let's get you back to your bed," the guard said. The boy nodded. Bed seemed really nice right now.

---

          The next morning, he was on his way to school. The boy was still sleepy and a little grumpy. He hated the clothes he had to wear. A white, button down shirt, blue vest with two big white stripes and blue pants. It was so uncomfortable and Nurse got mad when he got dirty. 

          At the moment, they were standing outside, waiting for the car to pull up. Nurse fidgeted over him, straightening his clothes.

          "Now Master Hikari, Mr. Todai is going to be riding with us today, so I want you to be on your best behavior." She whipped a comb from her gigantic purse and began to brush his hair back. "That means no talking. Mr. Todai doesn't need to hear your childish talk. Understand?"

          "Yes Ma'am."

          "Good." She jammed the dark blue hat on his head. Then she took his chin in her pinching hands and turned his head from side to side. Her eyes narrowed and her thin lips were in a tight line. 

          "Acceptable," she said finally. "Now stand up straight. Here comes Mr. Todai."  
          The boy purposely slumped his shoulders. He didn't like Nurse. It was like this every morning. She always told him to mind his manners. The way she said it made it seem like he'd been really bad the day before and needed to do better.

          "Good morning, Hikari," said Todai's bright voice. The man patted his head briefly. The boy looked up at him. A part of him really liked Todai. Even if he didn't get to see him much. 

          "Good morning, Nurse," Todai said, just as cheerfully.

          "Hmph," Nurse said. Soon the car pulled up. It wasn't anything like the kind Odin usually got. This car had couches inside and even a TV. The boy, though, wasn't allowed to sit on the couches. Nurse said he would only get them dirty.

          The boy sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Todai. As usual, the first thing the man did was turn on the TV. It was the news. The boy liked the news. It was interesting. Nurse made him watch cartoons all the time. She said they were 'age appropriate'. He didn't understand what that meant. All he knew was that cartoons bored him. Everyone was always so…_happy. _Life wasn't like that. It was stupid to make kids think life was like that. 

          "So, how are you enjoying the second grade?" Todai asked.       

          "Hmph," Nurse said. "They should have put him in kindergarten. He may be smart enough but he's not _mature enough for the second grade. He's going to fail, mark my words."_

          "Mm," was all Todai said. 

          "…virus is sweeping through the L-2 cluster," the Newswoman was saying. "It's being speculated that the disease was planted by Earth Sphere Alliance in order to keep the colonies under control." She shifted a few papers on her desk and a smile pasted on her face.

          "In other news, thousands of children flocked to Katharine Memorial Recreational Center for the annual Young Musician's contest. The contest, always greatly enjoyed throughout the colony, was made extra special this year as Master Quatre opened the ceremonies."  
          The Newswoman disappeared and in her place was Quatre playing a violin. His eyes were closed and there was a gentle smile on his face. The boy wrapped his arms around his knees and watched. He looked so happy when he played. The boy wished sometimes that he could feel that happy. 

          "He plays really good," the boy said when the music faded.

          "Hmph," Nurse said. "That's not him playing. That's just genetics. That child was _machine created."_

          "There hasn't been a naturally created Winner in four generations," Todai said. The boy looked back at him. The expression on his face was like he'd smelled something bad.

          "They shouldn't be allowed to do it," Nurse said. "It's not _natural._ God certainly disapproves of it."

          "Well they've certainly gotten better at it. Quatre is the best freak they've created."  

          "Don't you like the Winner's?" the boy asked. "You're always on the news with Mr. Winner." Todai shook his head.

          "Of course not. They're genetically enhanced…everyone knows it."

          "But...then why do you be their friend?" the boy asked. 

          "Because sometimes, to get what you want, you have to pick the lesser of two evils," Todai said, patting his head. The boy blinked. That didn't make any sense. Quatre wasn't evil…and the boy didn't think his father was either. Why was Todai friends with someone if he didn't like them? That was just stupid. Grownups… He would _never understand them._

---

          "Get me off!" Abdul wailed, kicking his feet against the sides of the all ready nervous horse.  The boy watched him, getting grumpier by the minute. Abdul was in all his classes and was _always scared of something. The boy settled back in the saddle and absently petted his horse's neck. He wished he could go off by himself.           _

          Riding a horse was a new experience and he rather liked it. In fact, the only thing that kept him from enjoying Equestrian Class was the fact that some little kid couldn't stop being scared. It wasn't as if there was anything to be scared about. Falling off a walking horse wasn't likely to hurt much. 

          "Listen Master Abdul," the instructor said. "The horse won't hurt you. If you could try and be brave, there's so much you can do. When a horse sees your fear, it will become frightened as well."

          "I don' like iiit!" Abdul wailed. The boy took off his riding hat and ran a hand through his sweating hair. He hated the riding outfit even more then the school outfit. It was a dark blue coat and black pants that stuck out to the side near the top. The pants looked so stupid. Anyone who wore them on purpose had to be a real moron.          

          The boy gazed around the riding track. He wanted to _do _something. Sitting around was always so boring. Beyond the track was a little patch of grassy space and then the stone fence. The Instructor said that when they got really good, they could actually jump that fence.

          Beyond the fence were a lot of trees and beyond them was the road. Something flashed in between the trees. At first, the boy thought it was just a car, but then it flashed again. There was a pause…and again it flashed twice. Someone was out there… At once the boy knew. Odin. He glanced back at the instructor. She had finally gotten Abdul off the horse. The boy tried to think what to do. He could ask to go to the bathroom, but they were on the other side of the school. Of course… He glanced back at the fence. 

          The boy nudged his horse into a walk. Then a trot. Finally a canter, heading straight toward the wall. He was still a beginner yet…but…he wasn't afraid. 

          "No Hikari! You can't!" the instructor screamed. Underneath him, the horse bunched up, like a coiled spring. The boy stared at the spot right between the horse's ears. He _could. Unlike stupid Abdul, he wasn't __afraid. For a second he was flying, then there was a jolt as four hooves hit the ground. The boy pulled back on the horse's reins, letting it come to a stop. _

          As expected, Odin was standing in the shadows of the trees. He was wearing his black jacket and dark sunglasses. Odin jerked his head and started to walk away. The boy slid off the horse and followed him to the road. A car was there. Without waiting to be told, the boy slipped into the passenger side. 

          "So how's it going?" Odin asked as he slid in behind the steering wheel. The boy told him all he could remember about the house. When the boy was done, Odin made a 'hmph' that made him sound almost exactly like Nurse.

          "No camera's in his office, huh? I'm not surprised. Anyway, they're probably looking for you so we don't have much time." Odin reached into the glove box and pulled out a small disc player with a little earphone. "At six o'clock, put the earphone in. Don't forget. And be careful with it. It's worth more then you'll ever be."

          The boy nodded and tucked it into his riding jacket. He got out of the car just as the instructor burst out of the trees. Odin drove off, tires screeching. The instructor walked up to the boy, looking in the direction of the car. 

          "Did you know that man, Master Hikari?" the woman asked. The boy shook his head.

          "He just wanted directions." 

          The instructor put fisted her hands on her wide hips and glared down at him. The boy sighed inwardly. Yet again, he'd gotten into trouble at this school. He was probably going to be paddled again. Oh well. 

          "Master Hikari. One, you were not permitted to leave the training area. Two, school policy strictly forbids children talking to any strangers off the grounds during school hours. You know what this means of course."

          "Hn," the boy said. The horse was still waiting patiently where he'd left it. He scrambled back onto its wide back. The instructor came over to him, nostrils flaring. Well…as long as he was in trouble anyway. The boy nudged a horse into a canter and jumped the wall again. 

---               

          The boy sat on the window seat and stared outside. His stomach was growly, but Nurse said he couldn't have dinner. He'd acted inappropriately for a boy of his breeding. Delicious food smells filled the room. In the window's reflection, he could see Nurse eating. The boy looked down at his shoes. Just watching her eat made his stomach even more hungry. It was his favorite too. Steak and a baked potato, covered in gravy and lots and lots of corn. 

          Pleasant, low notes rolled faintly into the room as the grandfather clock announced the time. The boy counted the sounds to himself. Six. He pulled the small earphone from his pocket and put it in the ear away from Nurse. For a few minutes, there was nothing. Finally there was a burst of static, then Odin's voice.

          \Sigh if you can hear me, kid.\

          The boy obeyed, keeping a close eye on Nurse. She wasn't paying attention. 

          \Good. Now listen to me. Todai has cancelled all his meetings for tomorrow. It might be perfectly innocent, but they don't want to take any risks. Follow him, tomorrow. Don't leave his side for a second. I don't care if you have to handcuff yourself to his ankles. Understood?\

          "Hn."

          \Good. Keep the earphone in too. If you see him meet with anyone, no matter how innocent it seems, bring out the disc player. There's a little camera inside it that'll feed back to me.\

          Whoever Odin was working for had a good information network… and good resources too. The boy couldn't help but wonder who they were. Odin never told him anything but what he needed to know. They must be bad people though. Who else but bad people would hire Odin to kill other people? But the Alliance was bad too because it also killed people. Weren't there any good guys? 

          Suddenly the door opened. Todai stood there, smiling. The boy's heart smiled too. A part of him wanted to hug the old man. To let Todai take care of him. To let Todai take care of everything. A part of him really wanted to be Todai's grandson. But another part knew that was impossible. He'd been something else for too long. Making Odin proud was more important to him. More important then anything in the world. 

          "Ahh, Hikari. I see you've eaten."

          "No he hasn't," Nurse said with a sniff. "After the fiasco he pulled off in school today-"

          "Ah good. Excellent," Todai said. "Would you like to eat dinner with me then? Mr. Winner will be dining with us and I think I'd like for you to meet him."  
          "Mr. Todai!" Nurse stood, red spots growing on her withered cheeks. "I cannot allow you to give this boy special treatment after he's behaved so badly." 

          The boy hopped down from the window seat and walked past her. She could speak all she wanted, but Todai had the final say. The man's warm hand came down on his shoulder and together they went from the room. 

          \What a witch.\ Odin's voice made the boy jump. He'd almost forgotten about the earphone. 

          "Is something wrong?" Todai asked. The boy shook his head. They went downstairs into the huge entrance hall. Todai straightened and nodded. The butler opened the door. The head of the Winner family wasn't there. Instead, it was a boy. A boy with blond hair and cold blue eyes. 

          "Ah…Master Quatre," Todai said, clearly surprised. "I…eh…wasn't expecting you." 

          "My apologies," Quatre said with a smile that wasn't quite a smile. "Something came up and my father was unable to make it. He sent me in his stead… if that's all right." 

          "Of course, Master Quatre. Your company is always welcome." Todai pushed the boy forward a little. "This is my grandson, Hikari." Quatre looked at him, blue eyes growing even colder. The boy dropped his gaze to the floor. His heart was starting to hurt again. 

          Dinner was quiet for the most part. Todai sat at the head of a very long table with Quatre on his right side and the boy on his left. At least the quiet gave the boy time to think. How was he going to be able to follow Todai all day tomorrow? Nurse would never allow it. And usually he only spent time with the man in Nurse's company. He doubted Todai would do anything suspicious in front of Nurse. That old woman just kept getting in the way. The boy glanced up at Quatre and suddenly had an idea.

          "What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked the man. Todai opened his mouth to speak, then glanced at Quatre and cleared his throat. Then he cleared his throat again and smiled nervously. 

          "Ah…well… nothing…particular." 

          "No meetings or anything? All you do is go to meetings."

          "Er…no."

          "Then can you play with me tomorrow? All day? Pleaasse?" the boy said, trying to sound as child like as possible. Todai seemed to become even more nervous. 

          "Well… I don't…"  
          "You should," Quatre said. "Adults should spend some time with their kids. That's how we know you really care." 

          "Of course. Of course." 

          "It'll be fun!" the boy said, trying to smile. "And I can tell you all about what we did, Quatre!" 

          /Ha! Good job, kid!/ Odin said in his ear. /Todai's stuck now!/ Normally, Odin's words would make him feel proud. Now, though, it was impossible. Quatre was looking at him. Giving him a cool, steady gaze. _He knows I'm up to something¸_ the boy thought. Inwardly, he was impressed. Quatre wasn't just another dumb little kid. The boy looked down and began to poke at his food, suddenly not hungry. Now that the first stage of his mission was complete, he just wanted to go to bed. He didn't think, though, that Todai would let him leave so soon. 

          "Well Master Quatre," Todai said after a while. "I can understand why you would want Hikari to spend time with me. Your father doesn't seem to have much time to spend with you, does he?"

          "No," Quatre said, frowning a little.

          "That's such a shame. You are his only son so it seems to me he would want to spend time with you. Though I suppose that he can create more sons. I think he just sees you as easily replaceable."

          Quatre didn't say anything, but his frown deepened. The boy glared at his plate. It wasn't nice for Todai to say things like that! Even though Mr. Winner could make more sons, there was only one Quatre. No one could ever replace someone so nice. 

          "Don't look so sad, my boy," Todai said, patting Quatre's hand. "You know I care about you." 

          "You do?" Quatre asked, eyes hopeful. The boy stared at Todai. Why was he lying? It wasn't right to lie like that. It wasn't right to pretend. Because one day, Todai would be caught pretending and it would make Quatre even sadder."

          "Of course I care about you," Todai said. "You're almost like a second grandson to me."

          "Yeah," the boy said. "He really likes you. He said you were the best freak the Winner's ever created." 

          "Hikari!" Todai snapped.

          \You little moron! Keep your damned mouth shut!\ Odin yelled. The boy winced. 

          "I…I see," Quatre said. He was sad. Really really sad. But it was better for him to be sad now then be really hurt later.

          "It's not nice to lie, Hikari," Todai said. "I never said anything like that. Now apologize to Master Quatre right now."  
          The boy mumbled an apology. It was too late though. Quatre would know the truth. As a friend, it was the only thing the boy knew to do for him. 

----

Notes: Aaah, these chapters are getting long. Don't worry though; the next chapter will be the last of Ice Blue Eyes. I promise. ^^; Otherwise this chapter is gonna run to like…twelve pages. 

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing. Sadly, I do not own it. However, I do own the exclusive rights to obsessively glomp Wufei. *knod knod*

Night~Mare


	10. Ice Blue Eyes: Part V

Notes: This is all the dark stuff that was supposed to happen in the last chapter. Just a warning. ^^; 

          "This is one of Vidal's earlier works," the guide droned. "As you can see, his bold use of strokes infer movement while the picture itself invokes a sense of tranquility." 

          It just looked like a big gray and black swirl to him. The boy sighed as the group of adults shuffled to the next picture. They clustered around it and muttered strange words to each other. Grownup stuff was sooo boring. 

          There was a window nearby. It showed a bright, pretty day. It was the perfect day for rolling around on the lawn. Even perfect to sit on the patio with Nurse and sip bitter tea. Anything was better then doing this. 

          "Are you having fun, Hikari?" Todai asked. The boy glanced up at him briefly. He wasn't stupid. Todai was just trying to get rid of him. All they had done today was boring stuff. Well the boy didn't care how boring it got. He wasn't leaving Todai's side. Odin would be really really mad at him if he messed up. 

          "It is a bit dry for you isn't it? I suppose after this you'll want to go home and play with your toys."

          "I want to stay with you." 

          "But Hikari…"  
          "You promised," the boy said, stomping his foot. He gazed levelly at Todai. If he had to, he was prepared to throw a screaming fit right here. The man seemed to realize this and sighed.  The boring walk continued. More pictures, more words that he didn't understand. The boy wanted to run around and scream and jump on things. He yawned so hard that tears came to his eyes. 

          \I'm with you, kid. I am bored out of my mind,\ Odin said. An adult got boring at adult things? Maybe this was just for older adults. The boy hoped he never got that old. 

          \Well I'm going to get something to eat. Anything happens; remember to take the disc player out.\

          At this point, the boy didn't think anything would happen. The earphone got staticy then went dead.  The boy sighed. He liked it when Odin spoke in his ear. It made him feel good to know that the man was watching him. Miss Celia had watched him too. Todai, though, didn't really seem to care. He was always happy when he saw the boy, but never watched him. Todai would ask questions but not really care about the answer. It was as if what the boy had to say wasn't important enough. 

          After what seemed like forever, the boring walk was finally over. He was happy when they finally got into the car. Todai actually let him sit on the couch! The man didn't even turn on the TV like he usually did. Instead he leaned forward and gave the boy a long look. 

          "You're not going to give up are you?" Todai asked. The boy shook his head. 

          "I want to spend the day with you."  

          "When we get home, I have something really boring to do. Then we can do something fun." 

          "Why can't I be with you?"  
          "Because it's an adult thing."

          "Why is it an adult thing?"

          "Because it's something I have to do."

          "Why?"  
          "Because if I don't do it, some people are going to be upset."  
          "Why?" 

          "Because I said so. It's not a thing for little boys." 

          "Please can I come? I'll be really good and everything!"

          At first, it looked like Todai was going to say no. The boy stared at him hopefully. He couldn't say no. Odin had told the boy to stay with Todai all day long. If Todai said no…then…then everything would be messed up! Finally, the man sighed.

          "All right. But you need to keep quiet. And don't tell _anyone about this, not even Quatre. Understand?"_

          "I won't!" the boy said. "I promise."  
          "If you break your promise, you'll be in big, big trouble young man." 

---

          The boy kicked his legs and stared at the fuzzy gray carpet. He was sitting in his own little chair beside Todai's big desk. Nothing interesting had happened so far. Todai was just typing things on his computer. He wanted to plaaaay. This was no fun at all. No fun. No fun. Todai yawned and leaned back. The boy looked up hopefully. Was he done? Could they do something fun now?

          "Almost," the man said, patting the boy's head. "We just have to wait to meet someone."

          "I don't like waiting." The boy looked back at his feet. Kick. Kick. Kick.

          "Do you want to see something special?" Todai asked. The boy nodded. It was better then nothing. Todai opened a drawer and pulled out a silver picture frame. The man stared at the picture a long moment before turning so the boy could see. 

          The boy's heart stopped. There was a…a man in the picture. The man had brown hair. Dark brown. Like dirt on a playground. The boy could imagine being high in the air, clutching the man's warm hair, watching the clouds pass overhead. A warm voice laughed inside his mind. Laughed and spoke some words he couldn't quite hear. 

          "Ohh, it's all right," Todai said. The boy suddenly found himself being pulled to the man's chest. Warm tears splashed onto the boy's hands and it took him a moment to realize they were his own tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? He wasn't sad. What was happening to him? Todai's warm hands rubbed circles on his back.

          "Shh… It's all right. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have showed you. I just wanted to make sure it was really you. You must miss your Mommy terribly don't you?" 

          The boy blinked? Mommy. Mommy…Mommy lived under a rock. A big gray rock. Suddenly he could see lots of rocks. Huge rocks. All tumbled down together…and dirty gray snow that stung his eyes. Someone was underneath those rocks too. Someone special… Someone who used to hold him close and tell him stories and take him to see the big fish fountain.        But…but he couldn't remember.

          There was a knock at the door. Todai sat the boy back into his little chair and put the picture away. A serious look came over his face. This was important. The boy pulled the disc player out and sat it on his lap.  

          "Come in," the man said. Just as the door opened there was a burst of static. 

          \Oof. These people make spicy food. I swear they don't know the meaning of the term 'mild'.\

           A man dressed in a blue suit walked up to the table. There was a very serious, almost angry expression on his face. The man looked at him and blinked. 

          "Who is that?" the man asked, pointing a finger at the boy. Todai waved his hand.

          "It's just my grandson. He wanted to spend some time with me."  
          "Look Todai. I don't have time to reschedule the meeting."

          "He's just a boy."

          "You can never be too careful."

          "He's just six, Lieutenant. Don't you think that's a bit young to be a spy?"

          \Lieutenant huh?\ Odin said. \That sounds interesting. As soon as they stop paying attention to you, put the disc player on the table. I can't see anything from down here.\

          Lieutenant stared at him hard. The boy stared back. The man was suspicious. The boy wasn't scared though. As long as he didn't act like he was hiding anything, it would be fine. Like Odin said; the best way to sneak out of a building was not to sneak at all. After a little bit, Lieutenant rolled his eyes and plunked what looked like a suitcase on the table. 

          "Ah," said Todai. Lieutenant opened the suitcase to reveal stacks and stacks of money. The boy's eyes widened. He'd never seen so much money in one place! He leaned forward, setting the disc player on the table. Todai took the money and shifted through it, mumbling to himself. Finally he put it all back in the suitcase.

          "Everything seems in order. Very well. It was a pleasure doing business with you," Todai said, popping a disk from his computer and handing it out.  Lieutenant took it and stared at it, like he could see what was on it just by looking. 

          "I don't think I quite trust you."

          "Please," Todai said, gesturing to the computer. Lieutenant came around and put the disk in. Different pictures popped up. It looked like different views of the colony with lines all over it. Odin said these kinds of pictures were called…skimaticks or something.  

          \Son of a bitch!\ Odin snapped. The boy jumped. \You traitorous money-grubbing son of a bitch!\

          "Is something wrong, Hikari?" Todai asked. The boy stared at him. He wasn't sure. What was Odin talking about? Why was Odin so mad? Lieutenant took the disk from the computer, nodded to Todai and started to leave the room.

          \Why the hell are you doing just sitting there, kid?!\ Odin yelled. \Shoot him! Shoot him you moron!\

          Shoot him! The boy looked around. Oh no! The teddy bear! It was still in his room! Oh noooo! The boy tore from the office and ran as fast as he could to his room, stumbling in his hurry. He slammed open the door and looked around. There were soo many toys! 

          "Master Hikari!" Nurse snapped. "It's very rude to come barging in!"  The boy ignored her and began to dig through a nearby pile. Where was it!? Where was that stupid thing!?

          \What are you doing!? Get-\ The boy ripped the earphone from his ear. He couldn't concentrate with Odin yelling like that. Nurse started grabbing at him, trying to pull him up. The boy smacked her away. She was yelling now. He didn't care. He had to find the teddy bear! 

          Then he found it. Right on the very bottom. He snatched it up and tried to pull it apart. It wasn't coming loose. Damnit! Damn _it! With a frustrated scream, he grabbed the teddy bear's head and yanked as hard as he could. It came off in his hands. He ran from the room, pulling out the gun as he went. Todai was in the hall, jogging toward the room. When the man saw him, he stopped. _

          "Hikari! Are you okay?" 

          The boy lifted the gun. Todai's eyes widened and he reached for him. _'How's my little man?' 'Look! A fire truck! And it's all yours. Happy Birthday, Hikari.' 'Would you like to hear a story?'_

Todai's voice echoed in his head. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. Then again. And again. Nurse started to scream. She was screaming and screaming. The boy lowered the gun, hands shaking so badly he could hardly hold it. He slowly opened his eyes. Todai was lying on the floor. The white walls were red. 

          He had to…he had to hide the gun. He had to hide it. No one would know if he hid it. Odin said that no one could ever know what he did. The body of the teddy bear was lying on the floor. It was dead too. The boy picked it up and shoved the gun inside, pulling the cotton over it. Nurse was crying now, calling him a bad boy over and over.  Something nearby started beeping.

          The boy wanted to hear Odin's voice again. Odin would be proud of him. Odin wouldn't call him a bad boy. Hands still shaking, he slipped in the earphone. There was nothing. Silence. As if the man weren't even there.

          "I…I did it," he said shakily. 

          \Yeah. You did it.\ Odin did not sound happy. That wasn't right. Why wasn't he happy? \You _really_ did it. You handed the L-4 colonies over to the Alliance. Great job, kid.\

          "But…" The boy felt ready to cry. "But…I shot him!" 

          \Very good. But the _lieutenant_ was the one with the information. You shot the wrong person, you little idiot.\ The beeping sound became faster. The boy turned to see what it was. There was a little circle thing attached to the wall. In the center of the circle thing was a flashing red light. The boy's eyes widened. Was… was that a…?

          \Holy _shit! _Kid! Get out of-\ 

          The beeping stopped. There were a few seconds of complete silence. A few seconds that seemed to last a million years. Then the world exploded.

---

          Darkness. He hurt. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Something was on top of him, crushing him. It was all alone here. All alone in the dark. It was scary. So scary. He didn't want to be alone! He didn't want to go into that lonely black! He would go where the bad people went. He would go there and never see Odin again.

          Above him were voices. But they were far away. So far away…and getting farther. They were all leaving him. Because he was bad. Because he had messed up. _Help me Odin! _He thought. _Where are you? Help me! Please! I'll be good! I won't mess up next time! _But no one came. No one came and he was still all alone. 

          He couldn't hear now. The dark had swallowed him. It was all around and cold…and lonely. He was sinking. Sinking into the loneliness. Because he had been bad… Because he had been bad… 

          Riding high on someone's shoulders. Fingers in warm brown hair. 

          _'What's up there?' _whispered a warm, friendly voice. A voice that loved him. _'Look. See what's up there.'_

The boy opened his eyes. There was a small hole in the black and…and he could see… _Clouds…_the boy thought. He reached for them. It hurt…but he reached anyway. If he could catch a cloud. If he could only catch a cloud. 

          "Hey! Look over there!"  Something moved above him and a warm hand took his. "Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." The voice that was floating down to him was grownup. Was he…was he going to be saved? The boy tried to squeeze but he could only twitch his fingers. 

          "Good," the grownup said. "Good. You'll be all right. We'll get you out. Everything will be all right." 

---

          It was dark. But, warm dark. He could breathe. He was on something soft and there was something cool against his skin. Voices… Noises…

          _Beep. Beep. Beep. _Went something beside him. Oh no! Not again! The beeping got faster. A warm hand covered his and squeezed gently.

          "It's all right now. There's nothing to be afraid of." A woman's voice. Soft and gentle. It didn't sound like Nurse. The boy slowly opened his eyes. The light hurt and made him wince. He blinked a few times and soon a ceiling slid into focus. Tiled ceiling. Hospital.

          "Good morning Hikari."  The boy looked over and saw Miss Celia. She was smiling at him. She looked really happy. But her eyes were puffy and red, like she'd been crying. Why had Miss Celia been sad? 

          "You'll be all right," she said, lightly brushing his hair from his face. "You had us all really worried for quite a while. You're a very lucky boy."  He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he was glad she was here. He wanted to ask if she cared that he was bad. His mouth wouldn't move though…and his mind was really tired. 

          "Look, I even fixed your teddy," she said, holding up the toy. He closed his eyes. He didn't like that thing. He didn't like it, but he still had it. It was still with him. He couldn't let it go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Miss Celia went on talking.

          "Guess what? Once you get out of here you get to come home with me. Wouldn't you like that, Hikari? To live with me? And you'll always be with me. I won't let anyone take you away."

          Be with Miss Celia? Forever? Could he really? Odin probably didn't even like him now. He'd messed up. But…but Miss Celia did. Miss Celia still liked him. And maybe…he could get rid of the teddy bear then. 

          A part of him was really happy thinking that…but another part was sad. Living with Miss Celia meant that he would never see Odin again. He would miss Odin. Odin was something he'd always had. Odin had always been there. All his life, everything kept changing. New places, new missions. But Odin had always stayed the same. Odin never changed. Even if Odin didn't love him, he loved Odin so much. But…he loved Miss Celia too. Whenever he was with her…he was happy.

---

          The boy carefully patted the sand castle into place. He wasn't well enough to play on the swings yet but sand was fun too. He'd been at the orphanage for a few days now. It wasn't too bad now. No one spoke to him much…but at least that meant no teasing. The boy liked being by himself though. All he really needed was Miss Celia. They were friends again and she even moved his room closer to hers! It was better then anything in the world. Everything was perfect now.

          There were footsteps behind him and a shadow fell over his castle. Suddenly sand was raining down all over him. It got in his eyes and mouth, and his cast too. The boy narrowed his eyes. _Almost everything was perfect. Above him, the teenagers laughed._

          "Did we scare you? Did we make you go wee-wee in the sand?" Dakeem said. The boy grabbed his teddy bear and reached for his crutch. A brown hand snatched it away from him. The boy glared up at Dakeem.

          "Give it back," he said. 

          "I don't think so. You need to stay here so you won't run away."

          "What do you want?" the boy asked. Dakeem tossed the crutch to one of his friends and leaned closer to the boy's face.

          "Didn't you watch the news? They found Todai's body. He was shot right through the head. He was murdered. And I'm gonna tell them _you did it. In fact, Miss Celia's talking with the police right now. I think I'm gonna go over there." _

          The boy stared at him. He was lying about the police. Dakeem lied all the time. Why couldn't the teenager just leave him alone? 

          "That was way over the line, Dakeem!" one of the teenagers snapped. "The poor kid has been through hell."

          "Aww comon'! He's just a stupid kid! Besides, he's Miss Celia's _favorite._" 

          "So what? I'm sick of you being such an asshole," the other teenager said. The teenager who had just spoken helped the boy up and gave him back his crutch. Dakeem was shooting them both with a look of pure hatred. Then his eyes narrowed. He was going to cause trouble. Maybe not now…but soon. 

          The boy limped to his room, clutching the teddy bear tightly. He was not going to risk it again. If Miss Celia _ever found out what was hidden in the bear, he'd be in a whole lot of trouble. She was the kind of person who didn't like to see anything hurt. If she knew what he had done…she would probably hate him forever. _

          Once he was safely inside, he locked the door. Then he plunked himself on the bed and started picking at the loose seams around the teddy bear's neck. Miss Celia could do many things well…but sewing was not one of them. But that was good in a way. At least he wouldn't have to tear it apart again. He didn't think he could do it a second time. He pulled the gun from the cotton. 

          It was heavy in his hands. Really heavy. He sighed and lay back on the bed, holding the gun above him. It made his heart heavy to look at it. It would be hard living with Miss Celia. Even if Dakeem went away. The boy knew he'd never be able to get rid of the gun. He would always have to hide it. A part of him would always be afraid of being found out. 

          He sighed, put the gun on the bed beside him and tucked his hands behind his head. Dinner would be in an hour or so. He and Miss Celia were having macaroni and cheese tonight. Besides steak, that was the best stuff in the world. He closed his eyes, listening to the silence of the room.  It was so peaceful here. So quiet. For just a little while, he didn't have to worry about anything.

          The boy didn't realize he was dozing until a knock on the door woke him up. He sat up, heart pounding. The knock came again.

          "Hikari? Are you awake?" It was Miss Celia. The clock on the wall told him it was almost time for dinner. The boy slipped the gun into his gray tank top and stashed the teddy bear under the covers. Then he grabbed the crutch and hobbled to the door.  When he opened it Miss Celia smiled at him. There was something else in her eyes too. She was worried about something. 

          They went in silence to her office. Two big bowls of ice cream were sitting on the desk. Now the boy _knew _something was wrong. Miss Celia never served ice cream unless there was some special reason. By the sad way she was smiling, it didn't seem like the good kind of special. 

          "I thought it would be nice to have desert first today," she explained. The boy sat, propping his leg up on a big pile of cushions. The doctor's said his leg had been broken in three places. A couple of his ribs were broken too so he wasn't allowed to play much. The boy hated being hurt. It was so annoying. 

          "Hikari…" Miss Celia started. The boy prepared himself. Here it came. "I know…you probably don't want to talk about this… but… The police were by today." The boy's heart leapt up into his throat. Did…did they know?

          "They…discovered that the man you were adopted by, Akemi Todai, that…well he was shot." The boy looked down, clenching his hand. What was she saying? Did they know he did it? Did Nurse tell them?  She reached over and took his hand.

          "Do you know something? Hikari?" 

          He shook his head. Maybe if he lied. Maybe. She would hate him if she knew how bad he was.         

          "If you know something, you have to tell me. We want to find the bad guys who did this. Did you see who shot him?"

          "No." He tried to speak normally, but his voice came out as a squeak.

          "Hikari…" She trailed off. For a while there was silence. Maybe she believed him. He slowly looked up at her. Miss Celia's blue eyes narrowed.

          "It was him wasn't it?" She was angry. Very angry. But she hadn't raised her voice at all. "The man who left you here. The man you were talking to in the store. That's Odin Lo, isn't it?"

          "No!" the boy cried, shaking his head. No he couldn't let her believe that! Odin would get into trouble…and…and Miss Celia was Quatre's brother and she would tell her father and whoever Odin worked for would be in trouble too! The boy had to tell her the truth. He couldn't mess up again. He could _not _mess up again!

          "I did it! I shot him! I did!" 

          "It's all right, Hikari. You don't have to protect him. You don't have to lie. He won't hurt you again. I'll make sure of it." Nooo! This was a problem… A… problem. Odin always said…there was usually only one way to deal with a problem. The boy closed his eyes. There would be no more mistakes. No more mess ups. 

          The clock read 5:59:50. The dinner bell would ring exactly at six. No more mistakes. No more mistakes. He had ten seconds. Nine. Eight. He started to pull the gun from his tank top. 

          "I'm sorry," he said. Seven. Six. Five. He looked at Miss Celia. Four. Three. Two. 

          "I have to kill you." One…

---

          The boy sat against the alley wall, staring at the night dark street. Everything was taken care of. He'd even erased his name from the files. It was easy enough once he'd figured out her password. Quatre Raberba… She'd really loved him.

          Now he was empty. He wasn't sad. Or scared. Just…empty. He suddenly understood all to well what it mean to kill. It was the worst thing ever. To take away someone's life. To take them away from everyone who loved them. He'd killed the light…and now all that was left was darkness. The boy stared at the gun. He had no where to go. He had completed his mission, even if he had failed. It was over. Everything was over. There was no one to love him. So maybe…it was all right to kill no one loved. No one would even know he'd gone. 

          The boy laughed. It hurt to laugh, but he did. He was the perfect assassin! No one would know! No one would care! Not even Odin was as good as he was! The boy laughed and laughed until he couldn't anymore. Then he stared at the gun. No one would care… No one would care…

          Suddenly light flared in his eyes. He winced and put a hand over his face, shielding himself. It took him a moment to realize the lights belonged to a car. The door opened and someone came over to him. Gentle hands pried the gun from his fingers.

          "If you don't be careful you're liable to blow your face off, kid," Odin said. The boy bowed his head and wrapped his arms around himself.

          "I failed…" he whispered. "I was bad. It won't matter…"

          "Nah. I didn't even see it coming. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just angry. I knew that bastard Todai was up to something. I should have warned you to keep on your guard. Anyway, let's get moving. There's a whole army of mobile suits out there and if we don't leave now we won't be able to."  
          "Does it matter?" the boy asked, looking up at him. Odin stared at him.

          "What happened to you? You're eyes are like ice." 

          "Isn't that how it's supposed to be?"  
          "Yeah." Odin shoulders slumped and he suddenly sounded tired. "Let's go, kid. Our work isn't over yet."  
          The boy stood. Even if they didn't escape…it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered. Not any more. 

---

More Notes: Eh heh heh… Told you it was dark. ^^;

Disclaimer: How many times must I tell you I don't own them? ^^;


	11. Caught in the Crossfire

            "Ahh, this is the life," Odin said, leaning back in a padded armchair. "Two weeks and nothing to do. Isn't that great, kid?" 

            Instead of responding, the boy opened his book. They were on a minor colony in the L-3 cluster. Odin said it was a vacation. The boy didn't know what they were vacationing from. Things had been slow for a while now. The Alliance's grip was getting stronger and rebellions were becoming infrequent. 

            He started to read again. It was about the creation of the colonies. There had been conflict even back then. People killing other people. Assassinations from the shadows. That was what humans did, he supposed. Although half the time he couldn't understand why. If everybody left everybody else alone life would be easier to live. Odin tapped the book. The boy looked up at him.

            "I'm hungry. Want to get something?" 

            "Sure." 

            Soon they were out in the busy street. This colony was small, but it was jam packed with city. The streets were narrow, twisting through the city like snakes. Buildings were crammed into every available spot. Occasionally there would be a tree or two. As they waited at a crosswalk, the boy glanced up. Gray metal wall stared back at him. The colonies had lost their clouds a while ago. It cost a lot to keep the projectors running and the Alliance didn't like it. The Alliance didn't live here though. Even if the clouds were just tricks of light they were better then nothing. 

            "Come on, kid." Odin said, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder. The boy shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they continued on their way. The yellow-haired man was looking around, a strange smile on his face. It was sad…but happy too…and a little distant.

            "Is something wrong?" the boy asked. Odin shook his head.

            "I'm just feeling a little nostalgic."

            "Nos…talgic?"

            "Mm-hmm. I grew up here. Lived here until I was fourteen."

            "What happened then?" 

            "Nothing I like to talk about. Suffice to say that I became what I am." Odin sighed and looked up. The boy wondered if he were looking for the clouds too. 

            "It started out so simply you know? One kill. That's all I had to make. It was a man I didn't even like." He shook his head. "Word of advice, kid. Never kill a man you hate. It makes you feel empty afterwards. You don't even know what to do with yourself. So Lowe gave me an order and I killed again. And again… The rest of my childhood was completely wasted. By the time I knew how to get out of it, it was too late."

            "Was Lowe your father?" the boy asked. Odin blinked, as if just realizing he was there. Then the man smiled. It was an expression that was a little fond, but angry too. Odin always seemed to smile like that. Now though, the boy knew why. 

            "No. I just took his last name when he died. Shot…right below the heart. It took him three days to die."

            "Who killed him?"

            Odin said nothing and the boy understood. He looked down. Odin must have cared about the man a little. Otherwise why did he take his last name?  But if Odin did care, why had he shot him? 

            "Orders are orders, kid," Odin said, seeming to read his mind. "And I was too stupid to know any different. A lot of things have happened in my life…but nothing has ever come close to the pain of that moment."  Odin clapped him on the back, voice changing from distant back to normal. "Not that you would know anything about that." 

            The boy said nothing. His heart didn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurt anymore. Nothing felt anymore. Even the distant memories were nothing. It was all right though. Things were better this way. Caring was what caused all the trouble. As long as he didn't care at all, everything would be fine. The only thing that mattered was what he was told to do. 

            Odin stopped. It was so sudden the boy walked a few steps away before realizing. The man was glaring at something across the street. A building with a high wall surrounding it and two mobile suits standing on guard. A military instillation. Judging from the size it probably had about ten mobile suits. It seemed a lot for such a small colony. But this colony, despite its size, was the communications hub for the entire L-3 cluster. Whoever controlled it pretty much controlled everything. 

            Suddenly the man walked away with long, angry strides. The boy had to jog to keep up. Why was he so mad? They had hid here because of the military installation. Odin had said that the best way to take a break was right under the enemy's nose. So it wasn't as if Odin hadn't known it was there. 

            "Why are you so mad?" the boy asked. Odin stopped again and gave him a hard angry look.

            "Why do you _think _I'm mad? The damned Alliance is taking over everything! These are _our_ colonies. They have no right. Don't you care at all?"

            The boy shrugged and looked away. There was nothing to care about. If the Alliance wanted to take over, so what? People might die but people always did. Why did Odin care anyway? He used to work for the Alliance. He had helped bring this about. 

            "Oh I forgot. You don't care about anything do you?" the man said bitterly. "I bet if L-1 was destroyed you wouldn't even care, would you?"

            "Why should I?"  
            "Because it's your home."

            The boy glared at him. 

            "I don't _have a home." _

             Odin stared at him. The anger faded replaced by an entirely different emotion. Sadness…pity. Why was he looking at him like _that for? What difference did it make if he had a home or not?_

            "You had a home once…" Odin said. Even his voice was sad. 

            "It's gone. Boom. Destroyed. Isn't that what you told me? And you're the one who did it. Why do you feel sorry for me? Why do you feel sorry for something you've done? It's stupid."  
            "That's because I have something called a conscience." He was back to being angry again. "You know, you could use one too."

            "An assassin doesn't _need _a conscience. All an assassin needs to do is follow orders. All the rest doesn't matter." 

            "Look, kid. I've been doing this far longer then you've been alive. No seven-year-old _twerp is going to tell me what I don't need." _

            The boy shook his head and walked away. Odin had always told him that a conscience only got in the way. Why was he saying now that he needed one? Odin had told him not to get too attached to anything. Odin had told him that the only thing that mattered was following orders. Now the man was telling him something completely different. It didn't make any _sense. _

"You're going to be one hell of a monster when you grow up," Odin said, falling in step beside him. 

            "I'm only doing what you told me to do," the boy muttered. 

            "Yeah. I know. That's what makes it so pathetic. You're going to be a great weapon to whoever gets hold of you. God help us if it's the Alliance." Odin shook his head. "I'm beginning to wish I had killed you that day…"  
            But he hadn't. He hadn't and the boy couldn't help but wonder why. Why had Odin taken him in? Why had Odin cared for him all that time? The young, childish part of him wanted to believe it was because Odin loved him. It was stupid. He knew it was. But he couldn't think of another explanation. 

            They walked in silence for a while. The boy kept his eyes on the ground. There were so many people around him. He didn't like looking at people anymore…especially in the face. Every one of them he might have to kill one day. Odin didn't either, he noticed. Wherever they went together it was like the only world was them. Odin never talked to anyone unless he had to. Odin never got attached to anyone. Maybe that was why Odin hadn't killed him. The man had wanted someone to talk too. Someone he wouldn't have to kill. 

---

            By the time they got to the entertainment section of the colony, the boy's stomach was grumbling.          The entertainment area took up two whole blocks. Restaurants and shops were piled on top of each other in huge buildings that seemed to almost touch the high metal ceiling. Something was wrong though. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was definitely off. There was only a small crowd milling along the narrow sidewalks. A lot of people just seemed to be hanging around, watching. 

            The boy glanced up at Odin. By the look on the man's face it was obvious that he too knew something was wrong. Everything was so quiet. As they walked up the street there were more people just standing around. It was like they were waiting for something. The boy glanced across the street and stopped. A man with a long black trench coat was standing there, staring at him. Or maybe at something beside him. Turning his head, the boy saw a restaurant. Inside were a bunch of people in uniform.

            "Are we really on vacation?" the boy asked.

            "Not for long if we stay around here."  Odin put a hand on his shoulder and started guiding him away. They had only gotten a few feet when a group of soldiers marched into the street just ahead of them, blocking off the exit. The boy turned almost at the same time Odin did and saw more soldiers blocking off the other end of the street. 

            "It's a trap!" someone shouted. Then everything happened at once. Rapid gunfire ripped through the air. Suddenly bullets were everywhere. People in the street were screaming. Some were firing, others just trying to get away. Odin grabbed his arm and yanked him against the wall, just as the window he'd been beside shattered, sending a silver rain of glass scattering into the street. Gun muzzles poked from the window and started firing into the crowd. 

            "Give me your gun," Odin said, raising his voice over the noise.  "Now I want you to get in that little alley over there and hide."  The boy obeyed without really thinking about it.    The alley was nothing more then a narrow gap between two buildings. It was so narrow that he could touch the opposite wall. The boy hugged himself and stared out into the street. He wasn't sure if he was scared or not. He wasn't used to all this chaos. Not that he hadn't had chaos in his life…but usually it only involved him…not so many other people.  Odin ducked into the alleyway then, gun held up beside his face, ready for anything. He probably wasn't used to this either. An assassin worked alone.

            "Is this a rebellion?" the boy asked. 

            "Looks like it, kid."

            "Didn't you know it was going to happen?"

            "No one told me."

            "So this is a rebellion not linked to the organization?"

            "Maybe, maybe not." Odin shrugged. "They don't tell me everything." 

             A soldier appeared in their line of view. He hoisted his rifle. Odin got him in the arm. The soldier dropped the heavy rifle on the ground, then whipped a pistol from his belt with his good hand and shot at them. The boy pressed himself against the wall and felt the rush of air as the bullet sped just past his nose. Odin cursed and shot at the soldier again. This time, a hole appeared between the man's eyes and he slumped to the ground. 

            "And to think, it only took you two shots," the boy said. "You must be getting nearsighted in your old age."

            "Ah shut up kid. Not everybody can be a crack shot like you…and I'm only forty-seven."

            "_That's what you said last year."_

            "Hn," was all the old man had to say about that. It was a little worrying though. The boy had heard that old people had the tendency to slow down. Slowing down in this line of business usually meant getting killed…or gotten rid of. He didn't want it happen to Odin. Odin was the only thing he had. If he could stay forty-seven forever, that would be just fine.

            The gunshots faded soon and the streets were as silent as they had been noisy. From where he was standing, he couldn't see much more then the dead soldier. Odin lowered the gun a bit. The boy watched him, waiting for an order. 

            "Stay close," Odin said in a low voice. The boy nodded and kept just behind him as they left the alley. The outcome of the fight was obvious and a little surprising. A small, ragged group of rebels stood among dead and dying soldiers that were more then half their number. One of the rebels spotted them and lifted her gun.

            "Drop that gun!" she snapped. Instead of obeying, Odin slipped the gun into his own jacket and held up his hands.

            "I'm on your side." 

            "I said to get rid of the gun!" the woman yelled. A man standing nearby came up to her and lowered the muzzle of the gun. The woman glanced at him angrily but did as she'd been ordered.

            "Who are you?" the man asked.

            "Are names really important?" Odin asked.

            "They are if you want to live!" snarled the woman. The leader waved her into silence. 

            "If you are with us. Why didn't you help us fight?"

            "That's not my area of expertise." Odin folded his arms and looked around. "So…who ordered this little…charade?"

            "Charade?! We spent months planning-"the woman started.

            "Why do you ask?" the leader snapped, glaring at the woman. She opened her mouth as if to say something. Then closed it and blushed. The boy could see right away that this woman was a serious liability. With the right provocation she would tell everything. 

            "Ah. I see," Odin said. "You did this entirely on your own then?" 

            "Yes," the leader said. The boy looked around. There were many soldiers dead, yes. But there were many others as well. People who didn't look like they'd been involved at all. 

            "What's the point?" the boy asked. 

            "We're trying to liberate our colony. That's the point," the woman said. "Soon all of L-3 will be free of Earth's control."

            "Not like this it won't. You didn't even do anything." 

            "What would a child like you know?" the woman said.

            "And just what help do you think this is?" Odin said. "The military base is still there. They still have control of all communications. They have mobile suits that can crush you into dust. What do you think you've accomplished by this?"

            "We've shown them how strong we are!" the woman said, drawing herself up There was a chorus of agreements from the others in the group. The leader, strangely, remained silent. 

            "And how do you plan to fight against the Leos?" Odin asked. "Those guns aren't even going to make a dent." 

            "Show them how, Charlie!" the woman said. A big man with a bald head grinned and lifted two rocket launchers onto his shoulders. 

            "Just two?" the boy said. They couldn't be serious. "There are a lot more then two mobile suits."

            "Ha! Shows how much you know," the woman said. "The street behind us is too narrow for them to fit through and they would only be able to fit two on this street. So two launchers should be enough, don't you think?"

            "What if you miss?" the boy asked. The rebels didn't answer, just looked to the leader. The boy did as well. The man didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on somewhere far away. He had known they didn't have a chance, the boy realized. The leader had known this was all pointless, but had done it anyway. What was the sense in that? The silence was broken by a low rumble of thunder. No…not thunder. Something else. The ground vibrated gently underneath his feet. Soon the bulk of the giant suit appeared. The boy watched as it came closer. Even from that distance, the boy could see another one was behind it. 

            "Oh God. Might as well kill me now," Odin muttered. The boy looked at him. Huh? Without a word, Odin went up to Charlie and took one of the rocket launchers from him. 

            "Odin…" the boy started.

            "Get out of here, kid. They deserve at least one good shot."  
            "But…" 

            Odin glanced at him, green eyes as distant as the leader's had been. The eyes of someone expecting to die. No… No he couldn't die. He couldn't stay here and let himself be killed just to help a bunch of idiots. 

            "You go back to the apartment. You remember how I told you to break into the communications system?"

            "Yes."  
            "Do that and get on frequency X39.75. That will get you directly to the higher ups."

            _I can't do it. The boy wanted to say. __I don't remember. You have to do it. You can't leave me. But he knew that Odin wouldn't listen. There was nothing the boy could do. Wait a minute… There _was _something. He had a mission. Odin had given him a mission. He had to do it and do it right. He wouldn't be sad, because on a mission there was no room for being sad. On a mission there was no room for anything._

            "What do you want me to tell them?" the boy asked. His voice was cold. Odin didn't like it when he sounded like that…but the boy couldn't help it. His voice always came out that way when he didn't want to feel. 

            "Tell them… Tell them I made a stupid mistake."  The boy nodded and turned.

            "Kid," Odin said. 

            "Hm?"

            "You might want this." The boy turned. Odin was holding out the gun. The boy took it, slipped it into the hidden pocket of his jacket and started to walk away. There was the sound of booted feet. Once again, soldiers were blocking the way out. This time though, there were more of them. They hoisted their rifles, aimed and waited. There was a loud thud and a shadow fell over him. The boy turned and saw that the leos had arrived. 

            "You're surrounded," the lead one said. "Surrender now and you'll not be harmed." 

            "Surrender this!" Charlie screamed. There was a loud roar as the rocket launcher went off. At first, it looked like a dead on hit. But then the mobile suit leaned back. The missile went on unheeded and slammed into the top of a nearby building. The second mobile suit reacted to this attack by lifting its huge gun. The boy dropped to his knees and threw his arms over his head as the laser coming from the gun ripped through the road not a few feet from him. Debris rained around him, hitting or scratching him as it fell. 

            For the second time, bullets screamed through the air. The boy opened his eyes and stood. There was smoke everywhere. He couldn't see Odin…or much of anything for that matter. He had to get back to the apartment. He had to do his mission. The boy ran as fast as he could, stumbling frequently over unseen things.  Suddenly a metal wall appeared in front of him. Unable to stop his momentum, the boy slammed into it and sprawled on the ground. As the boy stared into the clearing smoke he saw a huge metal hand heading straight for him.

---

Notes: Ahhh…this chapter was sooo hard to wriiite. ^^; Dunno why. Sorry for the long delay folks. Went on vacation and all that. ^^; But I got back and finished! See? Seee!? Oh yeah, and a special thanks to Zels! I know there are numbers but I can't remember them offhand. Gomen. ^^;

Side Side Note: I can't help it. I love Odin now. I'm sad. *shnuggles Odin plushie*

Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago. Neither the movie nor the city. Though I am the reigning dictator of Illinois. However, since this fic has absolutely nothing to do with Chicago _or _Illinois, even if I _did _own Chicago it would be a moot point wouldn't it? Unfortunately, I am neither owner or dictator of Gundam Wing. Someday though. Bwa ha.

Song Quote of the Day: "He had it comin'! He had it comin' He only had himself to blame. If you had been there. If you'd seen it. You would have done the same. Pop. Six. Squish. Uh-uh. Siscero. Lipshitz." Deh heh. Unless you've watched Chicago. It's really wiser not to ask. And all that jazz. Okay! Shutting up now! Honestly! And remember…all you need is love.


	12. Orders

          For a long moment everything was dark. His heart was pounding in his ears. All around him he could feel the humming of the machine. Metal fingers slipped gently under him and it felt as if he was being lifted into the air. Did this mean he was being captured? Odin never told him what to do if he got captured. When the boy asked, all he'd said was: "You don't want to know."  

          So he sat there, waiting for whatever was about to happen. He had to get himself to a computer with linkup access. How he was going to do that he didn't know. There might not be a computer where they were taking him. Or the pilot might just decide to squish him. The mobile suit's hand was more then capable of crushing every bone in his body. That should kill him. If not he was going to be in the hospital for a very long time. The boy sighed. Getting put in the hospital was so inconvenient. 

          The hand stopped and the humming took on a different tone. There was a sort of hissing sound and the fingers of the hand pulled apart. The boy suddenly found himself staring into the cockpit of the suit. The pilot took unbuckled his safety harness and held out his hand to the boy. 

          "Come on. It's okay. I'll get you out of this mess." 

          Well there was no else to go. The boy took the pilot's hand and scrambled into the cockpit. The man pulled him on his lap and buckled the harness around both of them. The pilot pressed a switch above him and the doors hissed shut. There were so many switches and gauges. He wandered what they all did. Outside all he could see was the tops of buildings. Was Odin okay? 

          "Sir!" blasted a voice from the speaker beside him. The boy jumped. The pilot sighed and pressed a button beside the intercom.

          "You don't have to shout, Cadet. I can hear you just fine."

          "Yes Sir. But Sir. The rebels have surrendered."

          "How many are left?"  
          "Three, Sir. 

          "Very well. I leave it to you Cadet. I'm heading back to base."    

          "Sir!"

          The boy watched what the pilot did closely. It must be so much easier to work from a mobile suit. It was easier to kill when you couldn't see your enemy's face clearly. The only drawback was that a mobile suit was too conspicuous. It was a soldier's weapon…not an assassin's. 

          "My name is Weaver. Fredrick Weaver," the pilot said. "What's yours?" 

          The boy kept quiet and watched Weaver's feet work the pedals. He could feel it walking. Pressing back with the heel brought the foot up. Slowly nudging the toe down made the Leo's foot go forward and down. 

          "Not the talkative kind, huh? What were you doing down there anyway? Were you with your parents?"  
          The boy nodded. Odin said that it was a good idea to let the interrogator answer his own questions. That way you could pick which answer was best.      

          "Hmph. Damned rebels. There were innocent people down there and did they give a damn? No. It's once they stop caring that they really become monsters." 

          The boy twisted his head up to look at the pilot. Was…was that really true? He still cared. He still cared a lot. So…maybe Odin was wrong. Maybe he wasn't a monster after all. Weaver looked down at him and smiled. His brown eyes were really kind. The boy looked away. Kind people always died. Maybe that was why everything was so terrible.

          Soon they reached the base. Weaver backed up into the wall and there was a slight jerk as the magnet took hold. The pilot pressed the switch to make the doors open.  The boy blinked when they did. They were high up and there was no way he could see to get down.

          "Do we have to jump?" the boy asked. Weaver laughed.

          "So you do have a voice. I was beginning to wonder there." The man shook his head. "No. Someone will come along to help us down." The pilot then ran his fingers down a row of switches near his elbow. As the last switch was pressed, a little door popped open right beside it. Inside was a small, rectangular piece of dark green metal.

          "What's that for?" the boy asked as Weaver pried the strip of metal from its little alcove. 

          "Have you ever seen your Daddy start a car?" 

          The boy sighed inwardly. It was time to be treated like a little kid again. He couldn't wait to grow up and get it over with. 

          "So that's a key?"

          "Right."         

          "Can another key start it?"   

          "Nope. Not unless they reprogram the suit." From below came the sound like a car pulling up and then the whirring of a machine. Weaver undid the safety harness. A metal platform with metal railings rose into view. An old man in a dirty jumpsuit was riding it. His white eyebrows rose in surprise.

          "Pick up a passenger Captain?" 

          "Yeah. This here is… uhh… what is your name anyway, boy?" 

          The boy went out onto the platform and put his hands on the railing. This was obviously the housing bay for the mobile suits. There were less then he'd thought there'd be.

          "Not very talkative is he?" the mechanic said.

          "He's been through a lot." The platform on wheels went down. The boy tuned out the adult conversation above him. It was going to be difficult completing his mission here. Getting onto the communications system without being detected shouldn't be too much of a problem. There was so much running through here they wouldn't pay much attention to a transmission from their own base. Getting to a computer though would be a problem. The platform settled but the adults didn't seem to be getting off any time soon. 

          "Have you tried the beam gun yet?" the mechanic asked. The boy slouched a little and kept a close ear on the conversation. The other suit had used a beam gun. Did that mean all the Leos were equipped with them?

          "I didn't. Cadet Burke did though."

          "And?"  
          "And it's entirely too strong for such a small environment. The entire entertainment district is heavily damaged."

          "That'll teach 'em," the mechanic said with a sniff. "We shouldn't even bother to rebuild it. Those rebels don't deserve it."

          "Rebels only make up a small part of the population." Weaver's voice was hard and a little angry. "Most of this colony is made up of innocent people. It's our duty to protect them."

          The mechanic shook his head and patted Weaver's shoulder.

          "You'll understand one day, lad." 

          For a minute or two, neither of them said anything. Finally Weaver sighed. A large, grown up hand ruffled the boy's hair.

          "You're probably getting bored aren't you?" Weaver asked. The boy shrugged. 

          "You should send him to the hospital wing," the mechanic said. "Judging from what I heard, that was quite a scrap he got himself into." Oh no. Not the hospital. Anything but that. 

          "I'm fine, really!" the boy protested as Weaver led him from the platform. "I'm not hurt at all." 

          "Well we'll check anyway. Just to see."

          When they had gone halfway across the bay area, the hugs doors slid open and a group of soldiers came in. Marching in between the soldiers were the former rebels. The boy's heart jumped as he saw Odin among them. He was okay! He hadn't died! The little kid part of him wanted to run up to him and hug him. But the sensible side of him knew better. Odin being captured might complicate things… Besides, alive or not, the boy still had a mission to do. 

          Behind the soldiers came the second Leo. The lower part of its arm was gone.    The entire entourage stopped a few feet in front of them. _What should I do?_ the boy thought, looking into his mentor's green eyes. Odin glanced at him then looked away. Ah. Okay. So he wasn't supposed to know him. 

          The Leo's hatch opened and its young pilot slid down a black nylon rope to the ground. Cadet Burke marched up to them, beaming with pride. Hmph. It wasn't as if he even did anything. Crushing a small rebellion with superior weaponry was nothing to gloat about. 

          "This will only take a moment," Weaver muttered to the boy. "I hope."

          "Rebels caught Sir!" Cadet Burke snapped off a salute. 

          "So I noticed. Did you find out who the ring leader of this operation is?"

          Cadet Burke walked behind Odin and shoved him forward. It was all the boy could do not to react. They couldn't blame Odin! Captain Weaver couldn't believe it. If they suspected Odin was the leader, he could be in real trouble. 

          "This is the bastard right here, Sir."

          "How can you be sure?" 

          "He's the one that surrendered."

          "Why?" The word tumbled out of the boy's mouth before he could stop it. Odin glared at him. _Shut up, kid. _His eyes said. The boy looked away. He shouldn't have asked but…but it was stupid! What good did surrendering do? What was the point of it? 

          "He's not the leader!" the woman yelled. The boy glanced at her and mentally sighed a little. How in the world did _she survive?  "Our leader died valiantly under your unfair tactics! He just showed up out of nowhere with that kid!" She pointed right at him. The boy flinched slightly. Damn. Damn, damn, _damn. _She had a big mouth. Someone really needed to shoot her. _

          "Is that true?" Weaver asked. The boy stared at the floor. What was he supposed to say now? He could say no but Weaver would know he was lying. Saying yes wouldn't help either. He could say that Odin had kidnapped him but that would get Odin into even more trouble.

          "I wouldn't believe her, Sir," Burke said. "She's just trying to protect him. This is the bastard who hit my Leo with the rocket launcher. Only higher ups would have those." The cadet shoved Odin again, hard. Odin stumbled, falling to his knees on the hard floor. 

          "Stop shoving them around, cadet," Weaver said with a sigh. The boy glared at Burke, focusing his gaze right between the pilot's eyes. He could kill him. He could really kill him. The stupid man had everything all wrong. 

          "They're rebels, sir," Burke said, meeting the boy's glare. "Rebels killed my brother. As far as I'm concerned, they deserve everything they get." It was strange. His voice was saying the words… but his eyes didn't seem angry. They were almost…bored. 

          "I understand your feelings Mr. Burke. However, a soldier who cannot control his emotions is a soldier with no place on the battlefield. Understood Cadet?"  
          "Understood sir," the man muttered, looking down. 

---

          The boy sat on the edge of the examination table and kicked his feet. Another examination. More questions he couldn't answer. More sympathetic adult looks. He hated hospitals. At least the stethoscope hadn't felt like it had been dunked in ice water. Captain Weaver had left at the beginning of the examination. But he was back now and talking with the doctor in hushed tones. He could just barely hear their conversation. 

          "I would say that he's led a fairly violent life before this," the doctor said. 

          "How can you tell?" 

          "Well, there's no physical evidence I could find. But…well… For one thing, he walked in here like nothing was wrong…but there was a gash on his leg about as long as my hand. It's almost like he's…used to pain."  
          "Could it be a shock?" 

          "Could be. But, I'll tell you, Captain; I've treated a couple of kids that went through the same situation that he did. Even the ones who were barely scratched had some kind of emotional response. He just looks…well like he doesn't care. Like nothing happened at all. I'm no child psychologist or anything but it's eerie."

          Booted footsteps crossed the tile. He looked up as Weaver came over to him. The man was smiling, but there was a thoughtful look in his eyes. There was still a chance though. Weaver knew a lot…but not too much. Nothing that would endanger the boy's mission. As long as Weaver didn't find out too much he would live. The man pulled a chair beside the hospital bed and looked into the boy's face.

          "It looks like you're going to be fine. You're just scraped up a bit. Would you like to tell me your name now?"

          "I'm tired," he said, stretching out on the bed and closing his eyes. There was the sound of a chair scraping back followed by a heavy sigh. 

          "Excuse me, Sir," the doctor said. "But we have casualties coming in. We're going to need all the beds we have."

          "I'm sure the lad wouldn't mind bunking in my room."

          Hands came underneath him. The boy instinctively flung his arms around Weaver's neck as the man lifted him up. 

          "I can walk on my own," the boy said, glaring up at him. 

          "Of course you can," Weaver said in a patronizing tone. "But you hurt your leg and the doctor wants you to stay off it for a while."

          There was no help for it. If he refused to be carried then Weaver might think he was abnormal. He didn't like it though. It made him feel small and young. At any time the man could drop him. Or maybe take him somewhere he didn't want to go…like a prison cell. He wasn't _that injured. He could walk on his own. But apparently little kids were supposed to cry over every little scratch. _

          "Did you really know that man?" Weaver asked after a while. 

          "No." 

          "That's good…because he's going to be executed tomorrow."  
          "Hn." What a dumb tactic to use. Weaver might get something out of that woman, but he'd never get anything out of Odin. The man didn't say any more until they got to the room. There wasn't much. A bed…a few pictures on the wall…and a computer terminal.  Perfect.

          "You know, there are a lot of bad people out there." Weaver set him on the bed and sat beside him. "You can help make sure what happened to you never happens again. All you have to do is talk to me. Tell me everything you've heard or seen. Anything can be important.  You won't get in trouble…I promise."

          The boy lay back on the surprisingly soft bed, crossing his arms behind his head. His leg was starting to ache now. Why was it always his legs? Why couldn't his arm get hurt instead?

          "We'll talk when you're ready. You just rest now." The man patted his knee lightly. Across the room the computer terminal started beeping. The man sighed and went over to it. 

          "Captain Weaver here."

          "Sir! Sir the Major wants to speak to you, sir. And, Sir, he doesn't sound happy."  
          "Of course not…"

          "Sir?" 

          "Patch it down here, Cadet."

          "Weaver!" an old, stuffy voice bellowed. "You have the easiest post to command in the entire damned cluster! How do you explain losing fifteen good men to a group of ragtag rebels!?"

          "I can explain, Sir."  
          "You'd damned well better!"

          The boy closed his eyes, tuning out the conversation. After the Captain left, all he would have to do was contact the higher ups, as Odin would call them. Now that he thought about it, Burke had used that term too. Was it just a coincidence? Well, even if it wasn't, the boy wasn't about to take any risks. All Odin had told him to do was to contact those people and tell them what happened. Hopefully they would tell him how to get Odin out of here. 

---

          It was quiet as the boy slowly woke. Someone had covered him up. Oh no! He'd fallen asleep! He bolted upright. There was nothing in the room to tell him how much time had passed. Anything could have happened. That had been really stupid. Inwardly cursing his own weakness, the boy scrambled out of bed and opened the door a crack. There was no sign of Weaver. There was just a drowsy looking guard leaning against the far wall. 

          It wasn't hard to bypass the security code on the computer. Weaver had only used a four digit alphabetical password. Within a few minutes the boy was into the communications system He liked doing this kind of thing. If he moved carefully, there was so much he could find out. So much information was available. Now…what had that code been again? X-3….97.5… Yes. That was it. There was a moment's wait then a woman with frizzy red hair appeared on the monitor. 

          "Yes, how can I help you?" she said in a bored monotone. Then she seemed to really notice him and her eyes widened in surprise. "You're just a kid! This is a government line, bucko. Not something to be messing around with. I suggest you get off before you get in serious-"

          "Odin told me to call," the boy said in a low voice. Hopefully the woman would take the hint and keep her voice down. He didn't know how thin the walls were and the last thing he wanted was anyone overhearing his conversation.

          "How would you-" She stopped as realization dawned on her. "Ohh. You're his little protégé huh? Hang on a minute." The screen flickered and he found himself staring at the back of a tall chair.

          "So what's the problem?" a man's voice said.

          "Odin's been captured."

          "How did this come about?"

          "We got caught in a rebellion. We didn't know it was going to be there and…" The boy paused. Should he really tell this man what Odin had did? Odin always said that they didn't like him working on his own. "And got caught," he finished lamely. 

          "So they don't know who he is?"  
          "No." 

          "Good. Then kill him." 

          The boy's heart stopped. What? That…that couldn't be right… Why? Hadn't Odin done everything they'd asked? 

          "I…I don't understand."

          "He knows too much."  
  


          There was a blip as the man severed the communication. The boy stared at the now blank screen. It was true. It was what Odin always told him. Those who knew too much always had to die. And Odin always taught him to follow orders. It felt as if a hand was squeezing his heart and tears burned the back of his eyes. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this mission. He couldn't kill Odin. He couldn't kill someone he loved so much. 

          _You killed Miss Celia, _said the sensible side of him. _And Odin would want you too. Odin would want you to follow orders. _

          The boy closed his eyes and shoved all the emotion to the back of his mind. There wasn't time for sadness. He just had to do his job. This was his first job he was doing entirely on his own. If he did it right…Odin might even be proud of him. The perverse thought made him chuckle. Only his life could be like this.

---

          The containment cells weren't hard to find. For such a small place, he didn't think it would be. So far no one had noticed him… Either that or they hadn't cared. He would have thought that a kid wandering alone through a military installation would have gotten some attention. But the adults were too busy doing their own thing.  But here was a problem. The boy peered around the corner again and sighed. Cadet Burke was standing on guard in front of the cells. 

          He couldn't shoot him. Not here. That would raise an alert. Burke didn't look like he'd be moving any time soon either. The boy ducked back around the corner and leaned against the wall. There had to be a way. A part of him didn't want to find it. 

          "Now what are you doing down here, eh?" said Burke, suddenly appearing beside him. The boy instinctively reached for his gun but forcefully stopped himself. 

          "I…I got lost."  
          The man smirked, like he didn't believe him. 

          "You're here to see _him _aren't you? The rebel leader."

          "No." 

          Burke grabbed his arm lightly and pulled him into the hall where the cells were. There was no point in resisting so the boy let himself be guided. The man stopped in front of a green metal door and keyed some numbers into the pad beside it. 

          "The security camera has been disabled. Don't take too long though," Burke said, pushing the door open. So he was part of the rebellion. Wasn't he? 

          "Go on, kid! They're going to get suspicious before too long!" The Cadet gave him a shove toward the door. The boy decided to trust him. And anyway, even if he didn't, he wasn't going to get another opportunity like this.

          The tiny cell only had one light on the ceiling, casting the room in gloomy shadows. Odin was sitting against the far wall. For a man who was about to die he seemed relaxed. Maybe…he didn't know. But no…that couldn't be. Odin would know. Odin wasn't stupid. 

          "Nice to see you," the blond said with a wry grin. "You did what I said?"

          "Yes." 

          "And how do they plan on getting me out of here?"  
          "They don't," the boy said, reaching into his pocket. Odin actually looked surprised. The expression was soon gone however and was replaced by stone. Nothing was on his face. Not sadness, or anger, or anything. It was strange. There was no time to wonder though. Just to act.

          "I have to kill you." The boy pointed the gun at his mentor, aiming for the forehead. Odin would be dead before he even knew it. 

          "And you don't even care do you?" Odin's voice was cold. Ice cold. It stung and ripped a bleeding line down his heart. But he would cry later. He would mourn later. Right now, there was only one thing to do. The boy rested his finger against the trigger. 

----

Notes: AAAH! Sorry this took sooo long. ^^: I've been having a lot of trouble with these chapters lately. The next one should be sooner… I hope.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing… If I did there would definitely be a scene in there with Quatre and Trowa snogging. *3X4 Forever!*

Night~Mare


	13. Ready to Die

        The boy rested his finger on the trigger. Just one shot and it would be all over. One shot and his mission would be complete. It shouldn't be so hard. This was just another assassination, another splatter of blood on the walls. Nothing he hadn't done before. But…his body wouldn't move. All he could do was stand there, injured leg throbbing, arms beginning to ache from holding up the heavy gun.  

        "Hurry it up, kid," Odin snapped. The boy tightened his grip, his sweating palms making the gun slide down a little. He had to do his mission. He had to follow orders. That was what Odin had always told him. Nothing else mattered except doing exactly as he'd been told. Inwardly, he closed his eyes. Ice closed around him as his finger tensed on the trigger. It seemed as if someone else were doing it and he was standing there, watching himself. Just one more twitch and it would all be over. _I'm sorry, _he thought. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry.  He jerked the trigger back._

        Click

        The sound seemed to echo off the walls. The boy stared at the gun without really seeing it. It…it hadn't gone off. What… It must be empty. They had just been in a firefight. That was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should have checked. He looked into his mentor's cold face, wishing he could ask what to do. Odin smirked, as if happy at his confusion. The boy's hands shook. Damnit. What now?

        The door opened behind him.

          "Hey, brat! I told you to make it quick!" Burke snapped in a whisper. Suddenly the man seemed to realize what was going on. The gun was snatched from his slippery hold and a rough hand grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully behind his back.

          "You little punk!" Burke snarled. "You're a little spy, ain't ya?" The man tugged the boy's arm up sharply; sending a spasm of pain rippling up into the boy's shoulder. He ignored the pain, forcing himself not to react. "You're a little Alliance spy!"

          "I was sent to kill him."  
          "Bullshit!"

          "Hey-" Odin started. 

          "Shut up, idiot. Be grateful I'm saving you!" Burke pushed the boy out the door, letting it close behind them. Then, with a final shove, sent the seven-year-old sprawling onto the hard floor. The boy pushed himself to his feet and turned to glare at Burke. The cadet had both hands on his hips and a smirk danced on his face.

          "You thought you were so smart, didn't you, kid? Killing the rebel leader on the planned day of the operation."

          "I didn't-"

          "I know better then whatever it is you're going to say, so don't bother to try."  

          The boy saw a flicker of movement just down the hall. Captain Weaver. He was watching them. If the stupid cadet would just turn his head a little he would see him. Weaver noticed the boy's stare and put and hand to his lips. 

          "Nothing's going to disrupt my plan," Burke said, turning so his back was to the spying Captain. "Not you, not a bunch of disorganized idiots who call themselves 'rebels'. I've been planning this little fiasco for a year." A big, stupid grin spread across Burke's face. "Wouldn't _you like to know what it is." The boy stared him straight in the eye. Then looked over his shoulder to the captain, then back at the man. Hopefully, if he wasn't a total moron, he'd take the hint._

          "No, I wouldn't. Don't tell me," the boy said for added emphasis. Burke chuckled and folded his hands behind his back.

          "Well, since all their going to find of you when I'm done is a smoldering little corpse…I'll tell you anyway." 

          Weaver was getting closer, slowly pulling out his gun. Surely Burke could at least _hear _him. Unless the man was completely dense.

          "As soon as I'm off duty, I'm going to blow up the base. With the communications relay gone, there's no way the Alliance will be able-"

          "You won't be doing anything, Burke," Weaver said, gun pointed and ready at the back of the man's head. 

          Burke whipped around, pulling out his gun. Weaver shot. The cadet fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. The boy stared curiously at the captain. What was the point of shooting not to kill? It was funny, but Weaver didn't seem angry at all. He looked upset, betrayed, but there was something else there too, something the boy couldn't quite place.

          "I trusted you," the captain said, his voice matching his expression. "How could you do this, Samuel?"           

          "Don't... call me that, bastard," Burke snapped, voice a little hoarse. "It's because of...people like you...that my brother's dead!" As he spoke, the cadet lifted his gun, hand trembling. Weaver's finger tightened on the trigger.

          "Don't do it. I don't want to kill you," Weaver said. "Please... What will it accomplish?" Burke hesitated a moment, then, lowering his head, set the gun on the ground. He was giving up so easily? It wasn't really surprising. 

          "Are you all right, lad?" Weaver asked, glancing briefly at the boy. He shrugged. "Well don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. I need you to take the cadet's gun and bring it here to me." The boy inwardly scowled at Weaver's patronizing tone and did as he was told. Burke's face was pale and stretched with pain. Judging by the amount of blood on his uniform, this was a pretty serious wound. Still, it would take him quite a while to die.

          "That's it. Right here," Weaver said, holding out his hand. "Then we'll get you away from all this scary business, okay?" 

          Burke snorted. The boy ignored him and turned his attention to the captain. If he kept to his role of the innocent kid, he could always sneak back in and kill Odin later. But...but if Burke's mission went through, then he wouldn't have to kill Odin anyway. Maybe...maybe he could take over Burke's mission! That way, Odin wouldn't have to die! Odin might even be proud of him. He hadn't been ordered to do it...but...hadn't Odin once said that following orders was one of the worst mistakes he ever made? 

          "Lad?" 

          The boy looked up. Weaver's warm brown eyes met his, then flickered down to the gun, and back. In that moment, Weaver understood. Understood everything.

          "You-" was the last word Weaver ever said. He fell, blood spurting from the hole in his head, and hit the ground with a thud. The boy rushed over to the fallen captain and began sorting through the man's clothes for the mobile suit key.

          "What...what did you do?" Burke asked. 

          "I'm going to do your mission," the boy said, finally finding the green strip of metal on a chain around Weaver's neck.         

          "But...but you...you were telling the truth... Weren't you?" 

          The boy nodded, trying to undo the latch of the chain.

          "I'm an idiot..."  Burke muttered.

          The boy rolled his eyes. Once again, brilliant powers of observation by an adult. With a grunt, he jerked the chain from off the body's neck and shoved it in his shorts pockets. Then he turned back to Burke. Distant shouting came from down the hall. The cadet seemed to decide something. He nodded and struggled to stand. The boy helped him, slipping an arm around Burke's waist to help him stand. As the boy wasn't entirely sure where everything was, he'd have to rely on the man. 

          "Help me to the comm panel," Burke said, gesturing to a row of buttons on the wall. For someone who was injured, the man moved fast. His face was pale, though and the hand clamped over his stomach was pure white. Burke pressed a sequence of buttons. Then pressed a red button down and said: 

          "Initiated." 

          At first nothing happened. Suddenly the lights snapped off and there was a gradual whine as the computers shut down. The shouting from down the hall became confused. 

          "That'll buy us a few seconds before the generators come on line," Burke said. "Comon'"

          It took a full minute for the generators to kick in...and even then, it was just red lights flashing dimly in dark halls. The boy was impressed. This rebellion was really well organized. They might even be able to pull it off, in spite of Burke's stupidity. They reached the entrance to the hanger, just as the power came back on. It was well guarded. Burke jerked back around a corner, just in time. They couldn't just barge through. It was five well armed soldiers against a wounded man and a kid. The boy could maybe pick one off from the shadows, but with all the others firing at him, he wasn't sure if he'd be very good. They needed somewhere to hide out for a little bit and plan. As if reading his mind, Burke gestured to a door further along the hall. The man was leaning on him heavily now, and his breathing was shaky. The door led to a small janitor's closet. Once inside, the cadet slumped to the floor. Sweat was trailing down his face and his white hand was stained red. 

          "I don't know what we're going to do," the man said in a whisper, leaning his head against the shelves. "If only Kris were here." 

          The boy crouched beside the door, keeping an ear out for approaching footsteps. The power must have knocked out the security in the cells too. Odin had probably escaped by now. 

          "He was the leader, you know," Burke went on. "Planned everything. They called him a genius..." He chuckled softly, wincing shortly afterwards as the movement jarred his stomach. "The best pilot I've ever seen. But he made one mistake... One stupid mistake...and they found him." Burke closed his eyes tightly, clenching his free hand into a fist. Kris must have been the brother then. The boy wished he could care about losing someone close. 

          "They tortured him. Tortured him...and all I could do was watch." Burke relaxed, slowly shaking his head. "I was the leader then. I tried my best... Even organized that stupid little rebellion to take the heat off us. But... It's all over now isn't it?"

          "There aren't any other pilots?"

          "Being a mobile suit pilot isn't easy," Burke said, giving him an irritated glare. "You have to go through rigorous training and..."

          "I can do it." The boy looked at the floor. It would be hard, but he would do this mission or die trying. He had too. If he failed...then...Odin really was going to die.

          "You?" The sarcasm dripped from the cadet's voice. "A kid like you?" 

          "I saw what Weaver did."

          "And you think that's enough?"

          The boy stood, jamming the gun into the waistband of his shorts. "I don't think you have a choice. I can do this for you, if you help me into the hangar."

          "You're out of your mind. It's risky for me... For a kid like you, it'd be suicide."

          The boy looked at him straight in the eye. 

          "So what?"

          For a long moment, Burke didn't nothing but stare. Then he shook his head.

          "All right. It's not like we have anything to lose. I hope you're ready do die, kid."

          The boy nodded. He was always ready to die... 

~~~

Notes: Yes. I knooow. It took foreverrr. I've been busy people. ^^: I can't guarantee when chapters are going to be updated but they ARE going to be. This fic is STILL going and will still be unless I tell you otherwise. ^^; Let me put it this way, school all week, work all weekend. And COLLEGE too, so that should tell you something… I'll try. ^^:

Disclaimer: Ach, I don't own the little buggers…and ye well know it.

Night~Mare


	14. In Too Deep

Three more adults slipped into the cramped, stuffy janitor's closet. That made five in all, not including Burke. The boy sighed as he stepped back to make room for them. Burke had said this was a meeting place in case something had gone wrong. Although there were no cameras here to monitor what went on, there wasn't much space either. The boy found himself backed up into a corner, shoulder to shoulder with a nasty smelling mop. As the door shut, the newcomers began to whisper the by now familiar greeting.  
"Burke, what happened?" said one.  
"You're bleeding!" said another. The Cadet smiled weakly, giving the, by now, familiar response.  
"I'm fine," he muttered. No he wasn't. He was dying and there wasn't one in the room who didn't know it. What was the point to lying? Maybe it was an adult thing, because the boy certainly didn't understand it.  
"Great. Our rebellion was a complete disaster," a thin man growled. "We're going to be taken prisoners and made examples of. Do you know what they do to their prisoners?"  
"We're not entirely sunk," Burk said, shifting his weight slightly. "There's still a chance we can win this thing."  
"Oh, Samuel..." said a brunette woman. "You can't pilot now. You'll die!"  
"So he'll die. So what?" the boy. All but Burke turned to glare at him.  
"How dare you say something like that!" the brunette woman snapped. The boy met her angry gaze evenly.  
"If you want to win, you have to sacrifice things when necessary," he said with a shrug.  
"What would you know, brat?" the scrawny man snarled. More then anyone in this room it seemed. The boy shook his head. Adults weren't supposed to be stupid like this.  
"No," Burke said. "He's right. I will die for this cause if I must... Like Kris did...like I know you all would do." There was a general agreement around the room. For all his faults, Burke seemed to know what to say to people.  
"Even though this rebellion is small...and we may not win...we'll be an example to all others out there who are oppressed. One day, L-3 will be free of Earth's rule. One day, all the colonies will. In that day..."  
For a man who was dying he sure talked a lot. The boy shifted anxiously from foot to foot and tried to listen for the sounds of approaching soldiers. From what he'd gathered, this rebellion was poorly planned and not as well organized as he'd thought. That meant that everyone taking part in the rebellion was most likely right here, just waiting to be picked off one by one when the soldiers showed up. Especially since Burke didn't seem to want to shut up about his stupid ideals and get down to business. The boy narrowed his eyes. This was his mission now. He'd taken it on and Burke had, in a way, given it to him. He was not going to let a bunch of moron grownups take it from him. Odin was going to be proud of him when this was over.  
"Get to the point," the boy cut in. "Everyone's here. What are we going to do?"  
"Die, most likely," muttered the scrawny man. At this point, the boy was highly tempted to give him his wish.  
"Not necessarily," Burke said. The scrawny man grunted.  
"Perhaps not, but either way, the rebellion's ended. You can't pilot and no one else here has a clue."  
"I know. That boy will pilot the captain's mobile suit."  
There was a moment of silence as the all the adults turned to give the boy a surprised look. Then they all burst out at once.  
"What?" the scrawny man bellowed.  
"You've gotta be kidding me! He won't even be able to reach the foot pedals!" said another man.  
"You're off your rocker, Burke," a woman said.  
The boy flinched. They were talking way to loud. The soldiers would be sure to hear them. Annoyance tightened his throat. This was all so pathetic. The others seemed to be nothing more then computer operators or technicians...but Burke was a cadet. A military cadet trained by the alliance. He had no excuse. This was all just pure stupidity.  
"Samuel," the brunette was saying. "You can't seriously be thinking of letting a little boy pilot such a complicated piece of machinery."  
"We don't have any other choice," Burke said. "It's a risk we'll have to take."  
"But, there's no way he can-" the woman started. The boy cut her off.  
"If the mission fails, then I'll be dead and no one would connect my body to your group," the boy said, fixing her with a steady gaze. "And if it succeeds..." the boy shrugged. The woman stared at him with wide eyes...as if she was completely shocked by what he'd said.  
"You know, he might be right," the scrawny man said.  
"You're crazy too," said the other man. "He's just a kid. What can he possibly do?"  
"Hurry up and decide," the boy said, shifting his gaze to Burke. "So far we haven't been found...but it's only a matter of time."  
The cadet nodded "The boy's right. I know it seems ludicrous, but he's not just any little kid."  
"You've got that right," the brunette woman breathed. "I'm not even sure he's human."  
The cadet seemed to agree with her, but all he said was:  
"Come here."  
  
The boy went up to the man, the adults parting for him and staring down at him with wide eyes. Ignoring their stares he stopped in front of the cadet and crouched down. Burke pulled some toilet paper from the shelf above him and set it a few feet away.  
"This is where we are," he said, pointing to a spot of blood on the floor. Then he gestured to the toilet paper. "That is the relay tower." He put his finger in the blood and smudged a line across the floor. "There is a main power line right under the road that supplies energy for the relay tower. It's only a small line, so hitting it would only trigger the backup systems." He made a cross with the blood a little more then halfway. "Before it gets to the tower, it feeds directly into a power junction. You'll know where it is by the slight dip in the road. Hit that junction just right and the surge will rip up all the way to the tower."  
"Why can't I just attack it directly?" the boy asked.  
"It's guarded by three leos," muttered the scrawny man. "Even if you did manage to make it that far, you wouldn't stand a chance against them."  
The boy nodded. He only just knew how to work the machine, fighting with it would be beyond him. He would if he had to, though. Odin would be proud of him by the end of this mission.  
"Now," Burke continued. "We have an operative in the hangar that will release the magnetic lock and open the main doors for you. Then you'll have sixty seconds to get out of there before he triggers the bombs."  
"Who did you finally get?" Samuel," the brunette asked.  
"I...actually don't know. They said they would send an operative here..."  
"Well at least you haven't paid them yet," said the scrawny man. "So if they gyp us we can-"  
"Actually..." Burke said. The boy sighed as the adults once again exploded into argument. He stood and headed for the door. This was completely ridiculous. If it was just him and Odin, they would have this entire base leveled in the time it took them to figure out what they were doing.  
He slipped out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him. The lights had come on and it seemed the base was at full power again. It was only a matter of time before the small group was found. Down the hall, the guard at the hangar's entrance had doubled. It would be impossible to shoot his way in there. That would only bring more attention then was necessary.... Especially since he wasn't sure if the operative was even there or not. Sneaking in was also out of the question. There were air vents running overhead, but he didn't know their layout. He could be lost for hours. It looked like he was going to have to pretend again. He tucked the gun into his hidden pocket and pushed himself out of the shadow of the doorway.  
He walked up to the guards, head bowed. As long as he acted like a kid, they would be fooled. He couldn't let them see his eyes though. They would know the truth as soon as they did that. The same as Weaver had known.  
"Hey! Identify yourself!" a guard snapped. The boy stopped and looked up a little.  
"I'm John Smith," he said softly, hoping he sounded scared.  
"Relax, Darvin," said another soldier. "It's just a kid."  
"Sorry," the one named Darvin murmured. The other solider started coming toward him. The boy found his hand automatically reaching for his hidden pocket and forcibly stopped himself. The man knelt in front of him. The boy looked away so the man couldn't see his eyes.  
"Don't be scared, I won't hurt you," the man said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Why are you out here, little one? It's dangerous." The boy bridled at the nickname but let it pass. He still had to think of a story. Hopefully the guard would think he was being shy and not become suspicious.  
  
"Maybe he's a rebel spy!" Darvin said. The others laughed.  
"Shut up, Darvin. You're scaring him," said the other soldier. He turned his attention back to the boy and smiled. "Don't worry about him. Darvin's just teasing. But you should go to the hospital wing where it's safe. Where's Captain Weaver?"  
So they knew he had come in with Weaver? Perfect.  
"I wanted to find my Dad's picture," the boy said. "I left it in the mobile suit...and I really want to have it."  
"Well maybe you can find it later when things have settled down a bit, hm?"  
"But I have to have it," the boy said, trying to look sad. "I really want my Dad's picture."  
"Well, I'm sorry, little one, but no one is allowed in the hangar."  
"Hey," said Darvin. "That's the kid who was caught in the crossfire earlier, isn't it? Maybe we should let him in, sir. I mean, he's probably just lost his Dad and something familiar will really help him out. I know it did with me..." the man finished softly. The tone of his voice almost made the boy look up at him. It was strange... because he had accepted Burke's mission, Burke was an ally...and this man an enemy. Yet they both seemed to have something in common. A loss that deeply effected them. So did that mean that they were both right? Or, because Burke was an enemy in the beginning, were they both wrong? How could two people on the opposite sides be the same and still fight?  
"I guess we can let him in," said the other soldier, breaking the boy from his thoughts. "The captain will understand."  
"Yeah, Weaver's a good man," Darvin said. Was, the boy thought automatically. Guilt tightened his chest, but he brushed that away too. He had no time for guilt. The only thing he needed to concentrate on was the mission. He wouldn't mess up this time. He would do it perfectly this time. Maybe Odin would even forgive the boy for almost shooting him. Maybe if he did this right, they could really be a family.  
"All right, let's go," the soldier said, taking the boy's hand. The boy almost pulled away from the touch. It was worse then Weaver. He wasn't that young. As they entered the hangar, Darvin seemed like he was going to come in with them. The solider waved him back  
"You gotta keep a close eye out, Darv. I have the highest rank and if something happens because I'm showing this kid around, it all falls back on me." The other man didn't argue, merely nodded and stepped back outside the room. The boy sighed inwardly. Good. The less people there were, the easier it would be.  
The hangar was surprisingly empty. There was no sign of anyone, rebel operative or otherwise. The leos stood like tall, eerie statues that seemed to be almost alive in the half light. It was strange that it was so empty. Even if they had guards at all the entrances, they would still have someone inside the hangar, just in case.  
"The other mechanics must have evacuated...but I'm surprised Ed didn't stay behind."  
  
"Ed?" the boy echoed. Maybe that was the person who Burke had hired. The solider nodded.  
"Yeah, the oldest mechanic in the place. Couldn't tear him away from his machines with a forklift."  
The boy nodded. Then the old man probably was still here. He was either in some other part of the hangar or the operative Burke had told him about. There was a movement in the shadows of the catwalk off to the side. The boy glanced up just in time to see a figure flicker into darkness. He narrowed his eyes. The mechanic? Or someone else?  
"See something interesting?" the solider asked. The boy immediately turned his attention back to the man. They were in front of the captain's mobile suit. The soldier had left his side to fiddle with the controls of a moving platform. The machine grumbled to life, the noise seeming to fill the whole hangar. If a shot was fired, no one would be able to hear it over the noise. The boy stepped up onto the platform and craned his head to look at the leo. The hatch was open. All he really had to do was kill the solider and climb in. The platform trembled and started up.  
"So, you were the one caught in the fight, huh?" the soldier asked. The boy glanced at him. The man had...changed. He was leaning against the railing, giving the boy a narrow eyed look. Gone was the concerned adult. The boy tensed automatically, then realized that he was only making himself look guilty and tried to relax. By the cold look that crossed the soldier's face, he realized he'd failed. He reached for his hidden pocket, but the soldier's gun was out and pointed at him, before he could reach his own weapon.  
The boy took an unconscious step back, sudden fear closing his throat. The boy clenched his teeth. Why was he afraid now? This wasn't the first time he'd had a gun pointed to his head. Why was he so scared? Only little kids got scared! He tried to fight the emotion back. Odin wouldn't have been scared.  
"Yeah, you'd better be scared," the soldier snarled. "I don't like kids. I never have. One less wouldn't make a shit of difference; especially one that works for the rebels." The man paused then, as if waiting for the boy to say something. The boy straightened and stared at the man's face. The fear was still coiled in the pit of his belly, but this mission was more important. If he did this right all on his own, Odin couldn't help but be proud of him.  
"Thought you were so smart, didn't you?" the solider continued. "Thought you could get away with it. Well you messed up big time. I helped to bring the rebels in, you know...and there you were, standing right next to the captain. Didn't look like a kid who had just been through a fight. I got curious so I talked to the rebel woman. Silly little idiot told me everything. I know you're involved in this rebellion so you'd better start talking about what you know before I blow your brains out."  
The boy looked on the soldier in an entirely new light then. This man wasn't dumb. He was observant and smart... The soldier must have suspected him from the beginning, but of course, no one would believe a little kid had been active in a rebellion. So the solider had led him in here...even taken him by the hand so he wouldn't change his mind and run away. The boy had walking right into a trap. He should have seen what the solider was doing. He should have known better. Now he was caught in a situation he wasn't sure how to get out of. He couldn't shoot the solider; he'd never be able to get his gun out in time. Telling the solider the truth...or even lying...wouldn't do any good. The man might not shoot him, but he'd never let the boy in the cockpit.  
Frustration mixed with the fear and twisted his stomach into knots. Now what was he supposed to do? He was running out of time! It wouldn't be much longer before they found out what was really going on. Burke would probably rant it out in full detail before he died, if he hadn't all ready.  
"You'd better speak up, kid!" the soldier said, finger tensing on the trigger. "I'm not very patient man. Don't make me have to kill you." Suddenly the boy saw something that made all the fear inside him disappear. Beads of sweat were appearing on the man's forehead. The boy shook his head at his own stupidity. The solider was obviously bluffing. Even if he was a kid hater, there was no way he could bring himself to shoot one. Odin would have shot as soon as he suspected something.  
The lift had risen to its full height and stopped. They were now level with the mobile suit's head. The only way to get into the cockpit would be to jump. First, though, he had to get rid of the solider. It would be tricky, though. The man was nervous and a quick movement would have him shooting on impulse.  
"I can't remember all that I have to do, so they wrote it down," the boy said, slowly reaching for his hidden pocket.  
"How stupid do you think I am? I-"  
He was interrupted when the inside door slammed open, the crash echoing around the room. The soldier's head shot in that direction.  
"Sir! Weaver's dead!" Darvin shouted. Time was up. The boy whipped out his gun and dodged as the soldier shot at him. The bullet whispered across his cheek. Just as the boy was about to fire, the soldier hit a button on the control panel, making the platform jerk forward. The boy's bullet went wild, burying just below the soldiers ribs. They were quickly rolling away from the mobile suit. The boy paused only just long enough to jam his gun into his waistband, then jumped up on the railing and pushed himself off.  
For a moment, he was flying. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He could hear someone screaming something and a gunshot that came no where close to him. The hatch of the mobile suit rushed up to meet him. He grabbed for it. The momentum carried him forward, slamming him into the underside and then back and for one heart stopping moment, he nearly lost his grip. He made his way hand over hand down the hatch and swung himself into the cockpit.  
There were more switches then he remembered in here. Hopefully, the buttons that Weaver had pressed to open the hatch would be the same ones to close it. He flicked a switch that looked similar to the one he remembered and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors hissed closed. He ran his fingers along the buttons on the side as he had seen Weaver do. The little hatch popped open for the key. He ripped the chain holding the key from his neck, took off the green strip of metal and poked it into its slot. The giant machine hummed to life. The boy sat back a moment to catch his breath. The first stage of his mission was complete. The intercom beside him crackled to life.  
"Are you prepared?" the voice was high pitched, either belonging to a woman, or a kid like him. It was also surprisingly calm, as if this situation was typical.  
"Ready," the boy said, stretching out his legs to touch the foot pedals. When they didn't touch anything but air, he looked down and noticed the pedals were farther away then he thought. Urgh. He hated being a kid!  
"Releasing docking magnet," the voice said. The boy slid down in the seat and pressed his foot against the pedal. Nothing happened. The pedal didn't even give to the pressure. He slid down further so he could use more of his leg and pushed as hard as he could. There was a slight change of tone in the machine as the foot rose. Sweat beaded his face. This was really heavy! He shifted his foot up to the top of the pedal in order to move the leo's foot forward. There was a slight jolt as the magnet released. The unbalanced suit began to fall forward. The boy yelped and jerked his foot off the pedal. It crashed down and the cockpit vibrated madly.  
"I've activated the countdown," the voice said. "You have fifty-three seconds remaining." There was a pause, then. "Enemy units at three o'clock." The boy narrowed his eyes. What in the world was the operative talking about? It was at least eight-thirty now. With a shrug, the boy braced his lower back against the seat, gripped the edge of the seat with his hands to keep himself steady, and began to work the pedals. It wasn't easy. By the time he had gone only three steps, his legs were aching. Suddenly there was an eruption of pinging sounds that vibrated through the suit. It took him a moment to realize people were shooting at him. Well, bullets couldn't get through a mobile suit's armor very well...at least he didn't think they could.  
"You have to move faster then that," said the voice. "You have thirty seconds left and if you don't turn you're going to run into a wall."  
The boy scootched up in the seat so he could see out the window and realized the voice was right. He was staring right at a catwalk. He looked around wildly at all the buttons and switches. There was nothing to tell him how to turn the stupid thing...and he only had a few seconds left. Oh no. What was he supposed to do now? --- Notes: Aaaah! Don't kill me! I swear I'll update ASAP and the next one will be the last chapter of this particular arc if you know what I mean. ^^; Sorry it's been taking so long but I have school and stuff. Just a reminder, this fic is still ongoing. I have a bunch planned for it. *side glances* A whole bunch. *sweatdrop* Pity me.  
  
Disclaimer: Well...you know the drill. 


	15. Parting Ways

The boy stared blankly at the catwalk, counting down the seconds he had left in his head. For the first time since he could remember, he didn't know what to do...at all. He couldn't ever remember seeing Weaver try to turn the mobile suit. This was a big problem and one he couldn't shoot. Twenty seconds left. Much longer and he would be caught in the explosion and probably die. The boy clenched his hands into fists. No wonder Odin could never be proud of him. He couldn't even do a mission on his own without messing up.

"Twenty seconds," said the operative as calmly as if announcing the weather. "Why aren't you moving?" The boy remained silent. He wasn't about to tell the operative that he couldn't do it. He was supposed to be _better _then this. Not just a stupid kid. Suddenly there was a beeping sound and the cockpit doors hissed open. Before the boy could react a hand yanked him out of the suit and sent him stumbling onto the catwalk. He caught his balance and turned to see a shadowy figure settling itself in the cockpit.

"Hey!" he shouted.

"You should go home before you get hurt," said the voice of the operative. The boy clenched his teeth. That--He'd spoken like the boy wasn't any older then five!

"I'm not a little kid!" the boy yelled, the cockpit closing on his words. The mobile suit shuddered to life. The boy flung himself away from the railing with an annoyed growl and pounded down the catwalk. As much as he would like to claw his way back into the mobile suit, there was only about ten seconds left on the bomb timer. Below the soldiers were calling for reinforcements and more ammunition.

Annoyance knotted his stomach. All they needed was a few rocket launchers with people who could actually _aim. _Then it would be a simple matter of taking out the cockpit. A pilot in a million bloody pieces wasn't much of a threat. Why was it that every singe adult he met besides Odin was so damn _stupid? _

The boy forcefully cleared the thoughts from his head. This wasn't the time. Seven seconds left. If he didn't find a ladder soon, he'd have to jump and hope he didn't break his leg in the process. Fortunately, when he was only a few steps away from the hangar doors, one presented itself, nearly hidden in the natural shadows of the room. A crumpled body lay in front of it. The boy took only enough time to register the corpse as the old mechanic before sliding down the metal ladder with a practiced grace.

His shoes hit the floor with a solid thunk. The mobile suit was only a few feet away, moving at a slow, but steady pace. The boy ran after it. A few bullets pounded the ground around him but couldn't afford to look behind. Five seconds left. Ugh. He was going to be caught in the aftermath of the blast no matter how fast he ran. Suddenly. Strangely. The mobile suit stopped, shoulder facing the open hanger. The boy didn't stop to think why. He scrambled over huge metallic foot and ducked behind a leg just as a gigantic roar vibrated the air around him. Bits of flaming debris rocketed past. Sudden shrieking alarms ripped through the air, making the boy jump. A gun was suddenly comforting weight in his palm, although he couldn't remember reaching for it. He immediately tuned the alarms out, returning his concentration on the situation at hand.

The leo moved off abruptly, as if obeying an order. The boy spared a second to watch it as it effortlessly tore away the gate that separated the military compound with the rest of the colony. The movements were a little clunky and obviously not the same professional quality as Weaver...but there was skill there. The boy suddenly felt stupid for being mad at the operative for taking over. Whoever he was, he certainly knew what he was doing. Fine. Then the boy would act as backup. It didn't really matter who did the mission as long as it got done right.

He ran toward the mangled gate, thinking briefly of hiding the gun, but just as quickly dismissing the idea. Everything was moving too fast to bother pretending. He heard the yelling before he reached the gate and what he saw was a chaos he had never before encountered. People were swarming the streets, in a disorganized mess. Some carrying suitcases, some demanding to know what was going on, and quite a few tying to get as far away as they could from the renegade leo thundering down the streets. Too few soldiers were trying to force them back onto the sidewalk for some reason. A revving engine soon bought the boy's attention to a roofless military vehicle not far down the street. A woman was putting a missile launcher into the back seat and giving orders to the stern faced man behind the wheel, yelling at the top of her lungs just to be heard.

"The red team is moving in to intercept, but I don't know what he's aiming for yet so I want you to take him out from behind!"

"Yes, sir!"

The boy tensed. This was his only opportunity. He would have to be quick and precise. Hopefully the soldier had just as fast a reaction time or the mission would end rather abruptly. The jeep started down the street, moving faster then the boy had anticipated. He launched himself into its path. The soldier cursed in alarm and jerked the wheel. Tires screeched and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. The boy suddenly found himself staring at the door of the vehicle, only a few scant inches from him.

"Goddamnit, you stupid brat! What-" Then he was dead. After slipping the gun into his pocket, the boy jerked the door open, making the solider tumble limply to the ground. The jeep started rolling. The boy jumped in, annoyed at having to scoot down in order to slam his foot on the break. From this position, he couldn't see much out the windshield except the mobile suit's back which was rapidly getting further away. The boy shifted his foot to the gas. He'd been in cars all the time with Odin, but being behind the wheel was completely different. The unexpected burst of speed caught him completely by surprise and suddenly the world seemed to be going by too fast. Blindingly fast. Uncontrollably fast.

_Get a grip on yourself! _The thoughts, which were undoubtedly his own, took Odin's voice. _If you didn't want to handle it, you shouldn't have gotten in! _The boy bit the inside of his lip until he could taste blood, forcing himself to concentrate. The street ahead was remarkably free of people, from what he could tell. They probably wanted to stay as far away from the leo as they could. Suddenly the jeep viciously bounced over something. In a slight panic, the boy hit the break with both feet. The vehicle spun wildly, finally broad siding a streetlamp and sending the boy crashing into the opposite door. Quickly, the boy shook off the daze and stood on the squeaky seat to see what he'd run over. The dip in the road! But the leo was heading away from it. The operative was probably heading directly for the communications tower! How in the world was he supposed to tell him though?

The boy collapsed down into the seat, tucking his legs to his chin. From the moment it started, this mission had been one disaster after another. At least Odin was probably free. There was no way he _wouldn't _be able to escape, judging by what a mess the colony was in now. Still...the mission _had _to be complete. The boy couldn't just simply drop it. Odin always said that once you started something, you _had _to see it through to the end. The engine began to sputter. The boy uncurled himself to turn it off and stopped when the radio caught his eye. It was a communications radio, but the part to talk into had fallen off somewhere. He pulled up the twisting cord that connected the part to the rest of the radio and was relieved to find everything still attached. He turned the radio on but hesitated a moment before speaking. It was a long shot. He had no idea which frequency the mobile suits operated on, or if he could talk to them at all with this. Unexpectedly, the wailing alarms cut off, surprising the boy for a moment. A familiar thunder rolled through the relative silence. Getting to his knees, he looked behind him and he clenched the mouth piece tightly. Two leos were coming up the street and were nearly on top of them. Where had they come from?! The tower was the other way and the boy had thought all the other suits were in the hangar! Why hadn't the idiot Burke told him about this? That was it. Forget becoming an adult. All he wanted to do was get taller. The boy slammed his thumb on the talk button, hoping that he would be able to connect and _something _would go right for him today.

"Operative!" he shouted. "The tower is guarded by three leos! You have to hit the juncture behind you!"

"Confirmed," came the calm voice. The stolen leo turned but before anything could happen, a woman's voice crackled over the intercom.

"We'll shoot you down before you even lift that rifle so don't even think about it." It was from the enemy mobile suits. They were standing right before the power juncture. The street was too narrow to stand side by side but they were standing close enough together for that not to make much of a difference. As for them shooting the operative down...well, there was good chance of that. But the operative _might _make it if he was willing to take the risk.

"Surrender now!" the woman ordered. The boy watched astonished as the operative slowly knelt to put the beam gun down. Damnit, no!

"You coward!" he snarled into the mouthpiece. "If you were going to surrender, why did you even join the rebellion in the first place?!"

"I was ordered to help but not get myself killed."

With a frustrated scream, the boy threw the mouthpiece fiercely against the radio. He _refused _to let it end like this. He _would _complete this mission or die trying. Then he remembered. The missile launcher! It was probably not enough to destroy the power line but mobile suits were a different matter. He stood up in the seat and lifted the weapon out of the back. It was heavy. Almost too heavy. Grunting slightly, the boy lifted it on to his shoulder and took careful aim at the enemy leo. It immediately turned toward him. The boy fired. The kickback of the huge weapon sent the boy flying backwards.

There was a crash of breaking glass and the next thing he knew; he was lying sprawled on the crumpled hood of the jeep. He knew he should be hurting, but his mind was detached, almost as if he was floating out of his body. Blinking slowly, he unfeelingly watched the enemy mobile suit, cockpit streaming with flames; fall back into the one behind it, knocking both into a nearby building. He shifted his eyes back and saw the operative lift slowly lift the beam rifle. The ensuing explosion was loud, but he only barely heard it. The jeep was suddenly airborne, taking him with it. He was unconscious long before he hit the ground.

---

It was bright. Too bright. The boy could see it behind his eyelids. Other sensations came slowly back to him. The panicked babble of people above him, acrid smoke stinging his nose, the feel of hard blacktop under his cheek, something heavy on his leg. The boy tried to raise himself up to push the object off him. But just the action of lifting his head nearly made him pass out. He rested his cheek against the ground again and opened his eyes, flinching a little at the light. His internal clock told him it was still night, but for some reason, the colony had activated daytime.

All he could see were people. Lots of them. Some carrying suitcases, others holding the hands of frightened children. They all sounded frightened. Listening closely, he could pick out phrases here and there.

"-contain the leak long enough for us to get off."

"This can't be happening!"

"-damned alliance that did it!"

"What's going to happen, Mommy?"

Another voice rose above the din that sounded like it was talking through a bullhorn.

"May I have your attention! The shuttles are becoming crowded. In order for everyone to evacuate safely I must ask you to leave your belongings behind."

"What?!"

"-my whole life in this suitcase! Please!"

"Look, over there." The man's voice was a bit closer then the others.

"A child!" a woman gasped. "Do you think he's still alive?" Footsteps coming closer. _No. I don't need your help. _He thought at them. _Go away and leave me alone! _

"First thing to do is to get that off him," the man said, his feet disappearing from the boy's line of vision. The woman knelt in front of him and he soon found himself looking into a concerned face lined with wrinkles.

"He's awake, Demitri!" she called.

"Good!" the man said in a strained voice. Then the man grunted as if lifting something heavy and the pressure was gone from the boy's leg. Now they would want to help him. Probably take him with them; most likely put him in a hospital and maybe even deciding to take care of him. Why couldn't people just mind their own business? The man knelt down as well, wrinkles barely deepening as he offered a fake smile.

"Don't worry, son. You'll be all right."

The boy sighed softly. He knew better then that. It would never be all right, at least not for him...and not for them either if they decided to take care of him. He would only have to kill them. It might be nice at first, but sooner or later it would be them with blood gushing from their heads.

"We need to hurry, Demitri," the woman said worriedly.

"Let me just check him over first. The shuttles will wait for a few seconds and I don't want to risk making anything worse."

"Whatever you say, dear."

Gentle hands turned him onto his back and once again, the old couple was looking down at him.

"Now tell me where it hurts," the man said. The boy tried telling him to leave him alone, but no sound came out. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on making his lips move. It was so hard to think.

"Go 'way," he managed.

"Don't be afraid," the man said, smiling gently. "I'm a doctor. I know how to make you feel better."

The man wasn't _listening. _Adults never did. They thought they knew everything. The boy closed his eyes. He was sick of this. The only adult he ever wanted to see again was Odin. That wasn't likely, though, if he let them get away with this. Gritting his teeth, he focused his entire concentration on reaching into his jacket. Amazingly, the gun was still there. He opened his eyes and lifted the gun with both hands, pointing it directly at the man. His arms trembled with the effort but he forced himself to keep doing it.

"Oh!" the woman cried. The man's eyes were wide in surprise and fear.

"It's all right!" he said again. "I'm only trying to help!"

"I'll- kill- you-" the boy bit out. The man reached out for him. Acting entirely on instinct, the boy squeezed the trigger. The man immediately fell back, clutching his shoulder. He refocused the gun on the man, intending to threaten rather then fire.

"Demitri!" The woman rushed over to the old man and started to help him to his feet.

"It's all right," the man said, pain making his voice harsh. "He's just scared."

"Demitri, let's go. Now."

"I can't leave this child."

"Think of your own children! Of your grandchildren! They've been through enough tonight without losing their grandfather." For a moment it didn't seem the man would agree. Finally he sighed slowly and after casting the boy a sincerely grief stricken look, let his wife help him away. The boy waited until the sound of their footsteps had faded in with the others then let himself collapse back into the darkness.

---

A cough woke him. A cough that shot pain through his entire body. It was quiet now. Quiet as death. He opened his eyes. Broken buildings rose up around him and dirty gray ash swirled gently in the air. _It's been this way before... _The boy narrowed his eyes, not understanding the whispered thought as it brushed his mind. It soon faded though and he was left with emptiness.

The mission had been successful. Odin would be proud. Even though so many things had went wrong, he'd managed to do what he'd set out to do. That was what he wanted to see. More then anything. He wanted to see his mentor appearing through the haze and smiling down at him.

_"You did good, kid." _He would say, gathering the boy up in his arms and holding him close. _"You had me worried there. But I should have known you would pull it off." _

The boy closed his eyes. That's what would happen. Odin was probably looking for him right now. Maybe, finally, Odin would realize he loved him. After all, the boy had done everything Odin had ever taught him. He'd done what no seven-year-old could have possibly accomplished. The thought made the boy smile. Afterwards, he must have drifted off because the next thing he knew, a voice above him was asking.

"You alive, kid?"

The boy's eyes flew open and there was -- Darvin. One of the men who had been guarding the hangar. Another man was standing beside him.

"It's a good thing we decided to do a final check. Dunno how we missed him before, but he's one lucky little bugger."

"Lucky for us too," said Darvin. There was no sympathy in the hard lines of his face. The boy glanced around for the gun and found it laying just a hairsbreadth away. He twitched his fingers, trying to force his hand to move for it. A big black boot kicked sent it skittering away.

"What do you mean lucky for us, Darv?" said the other man.

"Let's just say the captain will be looking forward to talking with him." A rough hand grabbed his arm and jerked him up. There was blinding pain and, for the third time that day, the boy was completely helpless.

---

Soft pillow. Scratchy sheets. Tubes up his nose. Something in his arm. Sedate beeping overhead. No. Not again. Why always the hospital? Why couldn't they have shot him? Or even left him there to die when all the air drained out into space. Anything was preferable then being hooked up to machines and completely helpless. Even worse, he was in enemy hands. He had to get away

His eyes flickered open and he tried to sit up, but no matter what he did, his body refused to move. The door slammed open and in came a tall man in uniform and a nervous young doctor.

"Sir, you should really wait! He needs his rest!"

"He's been resting for two weeks!" the soldier bellowed, face going completely red. "I order you to wake him up now!" The doctor looked at the boy and blinked, startled.

"Um...yes, sir."

The soldier turned to face him and broke into a smile that was so obviously forced the boy wondered why he even tried.

"Ahh, there you are." A metallic shriek filled the room as the soldier dragged a stool over to the bed and sat. "How are we feeling this morning?"

The boy didn't answer. Seeming slightly thrown off by the silence, the soldier cleared his throat and tried again.

"I'm Commander Pavlov. I'm here for you. I'll get you anything you want. Is there something you want?" The soldier waited longer this time his smile faltering.

"Well...feel free to speak up if you ever want anything. By the way, my captain wanted me to ask you some questions. Just answer the best you can and don't worry, you're perfectly safe in here. Who told you to do this? What were there names?"

The boy closed his eyes. Usually he would have made up some lie and act all childish and innocent but he was tired of it.

"Now, now, you can't be going to sleep," Pavlov said, anger slipping through his false kindness. "You have a lot of questions to answer." A hand clamped on his shoulder and shook him. There was a strange sort of squeak from the other side of the room.

"Now, sir, I really must protest," said the doctor. "He's in no condition to be handled like that."

"The captain wants answers _yesterday,_" growled Pavlov. "I'm sure you can understand that."

"Yes, of course, but if you kill him you're not going to get anything."

The shaking stopped abruptly.

"Well what do you suggest I do? Hm?" Pavlov asked.

"Let him sleep, sir. He's still recovering from very severe trauma. Try next week?"

"Fine!"

Pavlov was as good as his word. Week after week, and then day after day he was in the hospital room. First asking, then demanding that the boy answer him. It got to the point where the boy didn't even open his eyes anymore when the door slammed. In the silence between visits, he'd laid there, growing steadily stronger, trying to plan an escape.

Two weeks into his second month at the hospital, he was able to walk a little under his own power. He had just gotten back from physical therapy and was lying in the bed, trying to work on his escape plan. Unfortunately, his mind kept falling back to the mission. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it had been a complete joke. Not the mission itself. Any mission that succeeded was a good one, according to Odin. But the way he'd gone about it. It was a wonder he'd ever completed it at all. He'd gone in completely blind. He hadn't bothered to find out where else leos were stationed and he hadn't even bothered to find out how to operate the stupid things. In fact, if he hadn't killed Weaver, he could have stayed undercover and done the whole thing by himself.

The whole problem was that he'd relied on too much on people. On Burke to give him the information he needed, on the operative to destroy the power line for him. Of course, the operative had actually done it, but if the boy could have taken care of it himself it would have been much more efficient. Next time he would rely completely on himself. He would do the mission in his own time. Even if it took him _months _to get all the information. And once he started the mission, he would do it _right, _down to the very last _detail. _There was no excuse for being sloppy.

The door slammed open and the boy's train of thought faded. He sighed. Here they went again. He kept his eyes open this time, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sick of this!!" Pavlov roared. "I'm sick of wasting my time coming here every day. I'm sick of the captain breathing down my neck! You are going to answer me today you little bastard or you're going to regret it."

"No," the boy said, getting a twisted pleasure at the outraged silence that followed.

"I _knew _you weren't mute! I _knew _it! I'm warning you! Who made you do it?! I want _names!_"

The boy closed his eyes. He absently wondered how long Pavlov could keep doing this before he burst a vein. The room was utterly quiet. So quiet he could hear Pavlov grinding his teeth. Finally the solider spoke. His voice was soft and cold like the barrel of a rifle before it was fired.

"Fine. You wish to be that way. Be that way. But don't think that your silence is going to help anybody because you will be made an example of. No one disobeys the Federation Alliance and gets away with it. Not even a kid like you."

_Go right ahead,_ the boy thought. Nothing Pavlov could do would make any difference.

"Kill him, lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

The door closed quietly this time, but with certain finality. The boy wasn't worried, though. He _knew _that second voice. The boy looked up at Odin, but the greeting died on his lips as soon as he saw his mentor's face. In all his life, he'd never seen the man look so angry.

"I really _should _kill you," he whispered savagely, pressing the cold metal against the boy's forehead. "It would probably be doing the world a favor." The boy didn't understand. What had he done?

"But-" he started

"Shut up and act dead."

The boy obeyed. The gun went off so close to his ear that he jumped. Odin snorted and muttered something under his breath that the boy didn't catch. A few moments later he'd been wrapped in the scratchy sheet and thrown roughly over Odin's shoulder. Even though the movements of Odin walking jarred his bruises, the boy tried his best to breathe as silently as he could.

"Where are you taking him, lieutenant?" Pavlov asked.

"To the center of town, sir. As you ordered."

"Why wrap him up?"

"It will be a greater shock when they see him, sir."

"Very well. Carry on."

It seemed like Odin was walking forever. Finally it seemed they were outside. There was a sound of a door opening.

"Hey you! Stop right there!" someone shouted. Odin cursed and practically dropped the boy onto what must have been the back seat of a car. Bullets were being fired. The boy kept himself down, not wanting to get shot again. He pulled the sheet from his head enough to see Odin get in and start the car. Then the boy was pressed against the seat as the car took off, swerving crazily. Afterwards, things seemed to have settled down a bit. Still, the boy waited for a while before he sat up.

"Odin..." he started.

"Shut up, kid. Just shut up. I don't even want to hear your damned voice. Do you have any _idea_ what you did? You destroyed an entire _colony_!"

"But the mission was a success," the boy said faintly.

"Mission? _What _mission?"

"The one that Burke said-"

"Burke?!" Odin shouted, glaring at him fiercely through the rearview mirror. "You listened to that idiot?! What the hell were you thinking?! You're smarter then that, kid!"

"I only did it because I didn't want to kill you!" the boy cried desperately, wishing that Odin would stop yelling. He was _supposed _to be _proud. _

"You should have killed me, damnit! Do you have any idea how many people you killed?! How many lives you destroyed?!"

"People die every day," the boy said, getting a little annoyed. "What does it matter as long as the mission was successful?"

"It matters because you're human, damnit! Because even if you are an assassin you should have some trace of compassion."

"You said that compassion was a weakness!" the boy shouted. "You said an assassin shouldn't care! You said-"

"_I know what I said!"_ Odin bellowed. "But an assassin doesn't destroy an entire colony on a childish whim! Do that and you're nothing more then a bloodthirsty murderer!" He let out a heavy breath and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "I'm not just an assassin for hire. I'm an assassin fighting for a cause.... For the colonies. If you kill everyone in the colonies, then what are you fighting for."

"I was fighting for you," the boy said sullenly, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

"What?" Odin really did seem confused by that statement.

"I was fighting for you. I wanted you to be proud...."

"Proud of that?!" He laughed angrily. "Oh yes, I am so damn proud of you devastating hundreds of people. Just makes me warm right here, you know?"

"Have I ever made you proud?" the boy asked, glaring up at him. "Did you ever really care about me or did you just want someone to talk to?" He spoke without really wanting to know the answer...but also wanting to know it more then anything.

"I rescued you that day because you impressed me. You were the only one who survived...and I kept you because, yeah, maybe I did want someone to talk to. Someone to share the blame. But if you died I wouldn't shed a damn tear."

The truth didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. Fine. Forget Odin. Who cared? He would find something else to fight for. Something he _wanted _to fight for. It was time to grow up and accept the fact that he could only ever be alone. Assassins had no family, no friends, and no one cared when they died. One thing was for sure. There was nothing more that Odin could teach him.

"I want to go to the base...or wherever it is you get your orders from," the boy said.

"Why?"

"I don't want to be with you any more."  
"Gladly. But you're a dangerous weapon, kid. I hope they can handle you."

The boy snorted. They wouldn't handle him. He may be a weapon but he was his _own _weapon now.

----

Author's Note: Yes, I know. He was unconscious about three times in the same chapter. -sweatdrop- It gets better! It really does! waves arms frantically Anyway. Until next time!

Disclaimer: . . . do I really need to put anything here?

Night (damnit won't let me use tildes any more) Mare


	16. Fading Light

Authors Note: Yes, I know I usually put A/N's at the end of the chapter. But as this is a special chapter, I felt it would have better use at the beginning. So, short and condensed so you can get on with it, here are the things you need to know.

This chapter takes place during the Episode Zero manga. For those who haven't read Episode Zero, I'm sure you can find transcripts somewhere, if not, go to GW Addiction and ask one of the knowledgeable people there. Also, Endless Waltz has some snippets of it, but I haven't watched EW in _ages _so I'm not sure how much there is. 0o; _Because _this takes place in the Episode Zero manga, I've taken the liberty to snitch all the lines from the manga. There's going to be much more then lines of course. Some of them --okay most of them are paraphrased in order to make it seem, less stilted. And I changed one of the scenes too to make if fit better…but only the dialogue…so it's still the same thing…right? Right? I want this to be canonical damnit. ;; 

---

The colony drifted placidly outside the window. To the naked eye it looked lonely and serene, still in the darkness of space. No one saw the magnetic field surrounding it that kept it connected to the other colonies in the L-3 cluster. Most people, impatient to be doing other things, wouldn't notice the slow rotation of the colony that kept their feet glued to the metal floor. Odin noticed it. Partly because focusing on something kept him from remembering how much his stomach hated space travel, but mostly because he made it a point to notice everything. From the finest detail of a person's face to the angle of a window in an abandoned room.

"Sir?" said the stewardess. Odin turned his head to look up at her. She was a pretty young thing with hair swept up in a style much too old for her. It made her seem elegant and something that belonged in a limo rather then a shuttle. She cocked her head and her smile tightened somewhat, telling him he'd been staring much too long. Too bad he wasn't old enough to be considered harmless.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to make it seem he'd just noticed her. By the arch of her eyebrow she wasn't buying it.

"Would you like anything? Peanuts? Juice? Beer?" She said beer as if that was what she expected him to get and disapproved severely of it. Odin smiled. Well. He'd never been one to disappoint a lady.

"Better make that two. There's still a long flight."

"Yes, sir." Voice as cold as the vacuum of space. She plunked the cans a little too forcefully on the tray and prepared to move the cart to serve the nice old lady in seat five A.

"Oh, miss? I couldn't have one of those little shuttle pins?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We only give them to _physical_ children."

Ouch. She must be new. Or used to old perverts giving her a hard time. Odin popped open his beer and saluted her before taking a sip. He waited for her to ignore him before wincing at the taste. It was too bad he didn't like beer. He preferred to get plastered on straight vodka. He put the can down and blew out a soft breath. The teasing hadn't really been worth it after all. Not only was he stuck with something he wouldn't serve to the Alliance, he was also bereft of a shuttle pin with very little hope of getting one. That was the worst part. He'd wanted to present it to the kid when he saw him again, just to get that evil little glare.

Odin sat back and turned his gaze back out the window. It had been almost a year since he'd dropped the kid off at headquarters and he'd be damned if he didn't miss the little brat. If he could go back in time, he wouldn't have done it at all. He'd been furious after the colony had been destroyed. Little Hlidskjalf had been his home once upon a time. Odin smiled wryly. Of course it wasn't called Little Hlidskjalf any more. The Alliance had decided in its infinite wisdom that X-93375 would be a more apt name.

Whatever the name though, there was no reason to blame the kid entirely on its destruction. The colony had been tearing itself apart for months. And anyway, despite his above-average intelligence and truly frightening marksmanship, the kid was still a kid. A little boy who had just been trying to save the only thing that meant something in his life. Odin wished he would have realized that. He wished he hadn't taken his anger out on the child. There was so much he wished he would have done. Find out the kid's name for a start. Be there for him when he had his nightmares instead of just listening to him scream in the dark. Odin sighed and closed his eyes.

He'd treated the boy the same way he himself had been treated by old Benton Lowe. He'd thought, at the time, it was the only way. But now he knew better. The circumstances were entirely different. He'd _chosen _to become an assassin. True, it had been at the ripe old age of fourteen, but at least he'd had the chance to have a _life. _At least, for the first ten years of his life he'd been innocent. As innocent as a child of the colonies could be at any rate. All the boy had known was death and blood. It was really no wonder that killing so many people hadn't fazed him. Now he was on his way to becoming a monster. Odin didn't even want to know what the rebels were having him do.

It was that thought alone that had bought him out of his all too brief retirement. The thought that made him decide to do this one last job. One last assassination before he threw away the rifle and tried to make what peace he could with himself before he died. Now he was on his way to New Denmark-- or whatever damned stupid number the Alliance had tacked onto it. There he would pick up the boy and take him on one last mission, and then get out of his life forever. Honestly, he didn't want too. But there was too much blood between them for him to do anything else.

The beer chose that time to hit his stomach. Odin's concentration immediately switched from deep contemplation to keeping his breakfast where it belonged. That delicious chow mien he'd had just hours ago was turning out to have been a very bad idea. Heh. Story of his life.

---

Headquarters, like all proper rebel bases, was hidden in the basement floor of an otherwise nondescript library in the worst part of town. The library part, of course, was just a front. Judging by the way the librarian/secretary had waved him through after just a glance at his ID; they weren't worried.

The secret stairs were hidden ingeniously in plain sight. The fact that they were narrow as all hell and looked ready to fall apart at the lightest step was probably deterrent enough. Even though he knew it was probably safe, Odin couldn't help but cringe at every creak and groan. He couldn't help but be nervous. It was dark and, having never been to this particular base, completely unknown. It was all he could do not to reach for his gun.

After forever, the stairs finally ended in an unremarkable stone hall with bare bulbs hanging from rusted chains, throwing everything in harsh light. At the end of the hall stood a man in a white lab coat. As Odin came closer, he was able to pick up details of his contact. The man was fair-haired, with cheerful blue eyes staring from small round glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was leaning casually against a door and looked ready to wink at any moment. Odin's anxiety level went up a few notches. Rebels who were so relaxed when meeting a stranger probably had twenty hidden rifles targeted on said stranger.

"Hello," said the man brightly. "You must be Odin."

"Yeah," he said, self-consciously shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. Strange people knowing his name didn't help matters any.

"My name is Alec. Alec Howell. Or Doctor Howell if you prefer," said the man, unfolding his arms to extend a hand. Odin inwardly panicked. Was there supposed to be some secret handshake? He knew rebels used those sorts of things. No one had informed him of anything. Howell laughed slightly.

"Relax. This isn't the Spanish Inquisition. We're pretty informal here." Nevertheless, the doctor retracted his hand and swung open the door. "Welcome to our little paradise."

Compared to the streets outside, it was a paradise indeed. Odin walked into a large circular room with leather chairs clumped in random groups around the room. Doors leading to unknown places were scattered at intervals along gold scrolled wallpaper. To the left of him was a large desk at which a young woman filed her nails with a bored air.

"Just someone in to pick up the kodomo," Howell said.

"Mm," said the woman without even looking up.

"Kodomo?" Odin asked as Howell started to lead him across the room.

"Oh, sorry. Kodomo means child. I studied on L-1 and haven't gotten the language out of my system yet." They came to a door not quite on the opposite side of the room with a lighted panel beside it. Howell's fingers danced so quickly across the buttons that Odin couldn't even catch the numbers. There was a soft click. The doctor pushed open the door and beckoned Odin to go first. The assassin did carefully, still feeling like a deer in the crosshairs. This was another hall, filled with doors and even more expensive wallpaper. Howell grimaced.

"I know. Gaudy, isn't it? But at least it's comfortable. It helps being so close to the source of the funding. You should see the base on X-33892. This looks practically plebeian compared to it."

"Doesn't it have a name?" Odin asked, not certain whether he liked this man at all anymore.

"What? Oh, you mean the colony? It's called Star Britannia or something else completely ludicrous. I prefer the old numbers system better. That was the way the original scientists intended it."

Odin snorted silently. Well, even if the scientists _had _given his colony a number, he still preferred Little Hlidskjalf.

They went through another door, another hall, then another door and so on until Odin was completely lost. Either this place was huge, or Howell was leading him in circles on purpose. He wasn't about to discount either idea. A rebel had to be careful, especially with hired assassins who had unknown motives.

"So, has the kid been on any missions yet?" Odin asked, mostly to fill the monotonous silence.

"What? At eight?" Howell rolled his eyes. "He'd be lucky if he got to run messages. Not that I don't think he's talented, mind you. But the people who pull the strings don't think much of children."

"What are you exactly? To him, I mean."

This earned another eyeroll and a loud snort.

"Well I'm _technically _just observing him as a scientist. But, being as understaffed as we are I'm also his tutor, his physician, his nanny. You name it."

"So if he hasn't been going on missions, what _has _he been doing?"

"Reading mostly."

"Reading?" Odin echoed. This surprised him somewhat. Sure the kid had picked up an odd book or two, but to spend most of his time reading… Odin had never spent most of his time reading at the boy's age. Granted that he couldn't remember exactly _what _he'd been doing at eight, but he knew it had nothing to do with books. "You mean like fairy tales or something?"

"No, I mean astrophysics, geometry, politics, military strategy, basically anything non-fiction he can get his hands on."

"Don't you think geometry is a bit high-level for a kid like that?"  
"Well, he's still struggling a little with some of the concepts, but he's exceptionally bright. Right now, though, he's at the shooting range."

The shooting range turned out to be a large metal room filled with all sorts of strange devices. Odin's heart did a strange little twist when he saw the kid. The boy was sitting in a high backed chair with something that looked like joysticks mounted on the arms. He wore a virtual reality helmet wired to a larger machine a few feet behind it. Every once in a while, the boy's finger would twitch on the left joystick, which seemed to be the only one he was using.

"He'll be wrapping up soon," Howell said, going to the machine the helmet was hooked too. "He's been at it for two hours." The scientist pressed a few buttons and his brow furrowed. "Well that's strange."

"What?" Odin asked, heart stopping for a moment. He'd heard about all sorts of stories about those virtual reality things. Everything from cardiac arrests to brain damage.

"The program's been…changed. It's probably a bug or something. I'll fix it when-"

"I changed it," said the boy, taking off the helmet and running a hand through his all ready tousled hair.

"Hey, kid," Odin said, grinning. The kid glanced at him and then back at Howell without as much as a flicker of emotion. Odin felt strangely deflated. Usually the boy smiled or something when they'd been apart so long.

"Why change?" Howell asked. "No, forget the why- _how?_"

"I watched you design it, remember? And I changed it because it wasn't offering enough of a challenge."

"Not enough of a- You were at the highest level!"

The kid shrugged.

"I shouldn't have underestimated you, kodomo," Howell said with a laugh. "But you'd better go now. You're shuttle leaves in half-an-hour." Odin raised his eyebrows. They were tracking his movements that well? Damn. They really did know what they were doing down here. After this mission he would have to be extra careful in covering his tracks.

The kid started toward Odin, looking like he didn't care.

"Oh, by the way," Howell said. The kid stopped and looked over his shoulder. Howell smiled and held up a small disk between two fingers. "If you ever find what you're looking for, you should take a look." The scientist held it above the kid's outstretched hand, but stopped short of placing it in his palm. Instead, his face suddenly became serious. "Just be very careful what you decide."

"I will," the kid said. Howell nodded and dropped the disk into the boy's hand.

"What was that all about?" Odin whispered as he followed his student from the room. The kid said nothing, not even looking back at Odin as he led him down another lavish hall. Odin sighed. He seriously hoped it wasn't going to be like this the whole trip.

---

Odin took a deep breath as they walked through the spaceport. Here they went again. Space travel. God. What ever happened to the good old days where people walked everywhere? The security desk loomed ever closer. Odin was more concerned about what lay beyond. The only comfort was that security was pretty lax around here. This was the final checkpoint before they could get access to the terminal. Odin composed his features, thumping his rifle case onto the desk and handed the man his ID card.

"Odin Lowe," said the man, glancing at the card, then at the case. "You're a musician?" There wasn't a trace of suspicion in his voice, just mild curiosity.

"Used to be, but I'm retired now." Well, that was true. He'd tried his hand at the saxophone when he was a young man…until old Benton threatened to make him eat it. "I'm traveling with my son," he said, putting a hand on the boy's back. The security man nodded and tapped some information into the computer. While he was intent on the screen, the kid stepped away from Odin's hand. Odin mentally rolled his eyes. Stubborn little-

"Your destination is X-18999?" the security man said, surprised. "I thought that colony wasn't _completed _yet."

"Like it says, we're not going there for vacation."

"A former musician doing hard labor like colony construction?" the man asked, again, seeming not one whit suspicious. This was entirely too easy.

"I've been told I'm an odd one," Odin said, taking his ID card from the man's fingers and slipping into his pocket before picking up the case. "Let's go," he told the kid. Not that he didn't particularly want to go. Unfortunately, Septem had to be two hours away. Two hours of miserable flight time away.

Odin absently glanced down at the kid. He looked as far away as Odin had ever seen him. He'd changed since they'd last been together. There was something missing between them that Odin couldn't put his finger on.

"Hey," he muttered, plunking a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Try to act more like family, eh? That is our contract." Or rather, the one he had to sign in order to get the boy out of the damned base. It should have been easier since he'd been the one who brought the kid in the first place.

"Hm. Okay, _Dad_," the kid said. For the second time that day a voice the sun wouldn't melt. Odin's stomach knotted in irritation. It wasn't as if they hadn't done the father/son thing plenty of times before. Why was he being such a rotten little twit about it now? Just because they had one little stupid fight the kid was acting like he didn't even know him. Odin wondered if _he'd _ever given his mentor this hard a time. No wonder the old man didn't seem to mind being shot.

---

The space flight had been long and full of chilly silence. To make matters worse, there had been a malfunction in one of the thrusters and, after a jolt that nearly brought his spine into his ribcage, they had drifted aimlessly for two hours. The only highpoint had been the matronly stewardess giving the kid not one, but _two _shuttle pins for being so very brave. It had been all Odin could do not to laugh. Despite his best efforts, a snicker had escaped which had earned him a glare with the killing force of a .33.

Now they were in the Wall Hotel. A building with the unique design of being built right into the wall of the colony. Their room was larger then he was used to, with a huge window that looked out onto the stars. Trying to pretend that he wasn't anxious about only ten inches of metal separating them from complete oblivion, Odin whistled loudly.

"This bedroom is bigger then our apartments," Odin said, setting his suitcase by the door that lead to the bedroom. The kid said nothing. Odin glanced up at him and found him staring intently out the window.

"What're you looking at?" his mouth said without any input from his brain. "The void of space which took everything away from you?" Okay. Well, technically _he _had. But, damnit. He was going to get the kid to react one way or the other. This considered, Odin pressed on. "Or your own nameless face?" The kid didn't even look at him. He turned away sharply and plunked the rifle case on a nearby end table.

"Why did you come to this colony?" the kid finally asked. Odin smirked to himself. Heh. Mentor: Nine thousand. Runt: Negative two.

"To abandon you," Odin said simply, removing the violin that acted as a cover for his illegal weapon. Not unexpectedly, the kid didn't seem to react to this. But it didn't matter; he'd still reacted to _something._

"Soon there'll be a coup d'etat on this colony," Odin continued, fitting the scope on the rifle and checking to see if it was centered right. "You can take advantage of the confusion and settle down here. You know how. I've taught you everything you need to survive." Of course, judging by what he'd witnessed over the years, there was very little the kid _couldn't _survive. He was tougher then a cockroach. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Glancing at the kid out of the corner of his eye he saw a gun pointed at him. Odin returned to his inspection without much worry. The kid had gone to great lengths to keep from shooting him before.

"And who are you going to kill this time?" the boy asked, speaking in slight disapproval. Odin bit back the sarcastic remark forming on his tongue. Things were bad enough without alienating his little protégé further.

"Septem of the Alliance Space Force. This will be my last job." Satisfied with the rifle, he set it aside, and picked up the violin. He worked his fingers under the nearly invisible latches on the side. Clicking them up, he lifted the violin's back out of the way and checked the inside, which was packed with enough explosives to blow up a small army. "You should go to school and try to live a normal life."

"_I'll _decide what I'm going to do," the kid said. Odin chuckled to himself at the defiance in the boy's voice. Years of training kept his face neutral, but inside he felt a renewed sense of pride. No matter what happened, the kid would never turn out like him. No. He would blaze his own trail through this war zone, instead of taking orders from everyone else.

The presence of the gun disappeared. Odin smirked. He knew the kid wouldn't have shot him. Putting the violin back together, he carefully set first the rifle, then the instrument back in its case. Then he slumped on the soft first-class armchair and turned his attention to the boy.

"So, how did we get this room?" he asked.

"Howell got it," the kid said, crossing the room to get his small suitcase and plunking down Indian-style on the floor next to it. Odin raised his eyebrows.

"He didn't even look like he could afford a solid meal."

"He didn't buy it. He hacked it." The boy lifted a pitiful pile of clothes out of the travel warn luggage, tossed them carelessly to the side and started rummaging around with something left in the bottom.

"Hacked it?" Odin echoed. The boy sighed softly and fixed the man with an annoyed look.

"Hacked the hotel's file systems so it looks like we've paid."

"That's right," said Odin, trying to cover his ignorance. The look the kid gave him told him he'd failed miserably. There was silence as the boy pulled various objects from his suitcase and started fitting them together. Odin's eyes widened as an assault rifle formed in the child's hands.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"Stole it," the boy said, giving the weapon a quick but thorough check before disassembling it.

"From where?"

"The munitions room."

"What do you think they'll do once they find out who took it?"

"They won't," said the kid with so much confidence that Odin couldn't help but believe him. The assassin grinned and sat back. Heh. If he were still in this business, there would probably be a few things the kid could teach _him_. A relatively peaceful silence hung over the room. Then from outside, came the faint rumble of a starting battle.

"Well," Odin said standing and stretching the kink out of his back. "Shall we go see the show?"

"Hn," the kid said, which was answer enough.

---

It was a strange feeling, almost surreal, to be standing there and watching the Specials' advanced mobile suits beat the clunky outdated rebel weapons into the ground. Odin watched it with the detachment formed through years of violence. He knew he should care. He knew he should be cursing the Alliance's troops to the darkest pits of hell… but he just couldn't bring that emotion to the surface. Odin smiled wryly. To think he'd been mad at the kid's lack of compassion not quite a year ago. Some mentor he was.

Just across the street was the building Septem occupied, the Alliance command center. Odin had already had the violin case delivered to the place via simple mail carrier. Hopefully he'd fitted it with enough electronic red tape to make it difficult for anyone there to find out who the package was for. Theoretically, the case would be shuttled around the building until Odin could manage to get at it.

This wasn't the wisest course of action, as there was always a chance for it wind up somewhere outside or thrown in the dumpster. But, as Septem was in the most important people list, security was exceedingly tight. Odin hadn't been able to figure out another way to sneak the case in there without it getting searched. Or maybe he wasn't seeing all the possibilities. Maybe he was just getting old. He'd be willing to bet the kid could have thought of something better.

Odin glanced briefly down at the boy who was sitting a few feet away, hugging the assault rifle casually to his shoulder and looking entirely too damned introspective for a kid of eight. The boy was going off to do something on his own. What, exactly, he wouldn't tell Odin, and strangely, Odin felt reluctant to pry. The kid was too distant now, caught up in his own world…his own thoughts, leaving Odin feeling like a stranger. Or maybe that was what he had always been only the kid had finally recognized it. A particularly large explosion bought his attention back to the battle.

"Hmm," he said absently. "There seems to be a rather clever man in command." The kid made an irritated noise in the back of his throat.  
"The rebels are just amateurs. They need to take out the frontline command center or they'll be individually targeted."

Odin didn't know what was worse. The fact that the kid sounded so much like him when he was younger, or the fact that the kid was right.

"That's why they need people like us, kid," he said, absently shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "You have to understand that before this most of these rebels hadn't even _seen _a weapon, let alone used one. A lot of them are just everyday people trying to fight to keep their homes theirs."

"Should I fight for them too, then?" the boy asked. Odin slightly so he could look the kid fully in the face. His face still had that same dark cynical expression, but the question had seemed honest enough. Odin glanced back at the battle, feeling bitterness knot in his throat. The kid never learned, did he? In all their time together, what had Odin ever taught him that had helped him? Well…no…there was something. Something he should have probably told the boy a long time ago.

"I know you want to be your own person now. But listen, because this is the last piece of advice I'm ever going to give you. No matter what happens follow your feelings. Do what your instinct tells you to do." Odin sighed softly, suddenly feeling all his forty plus years and then some. "Once, some idiot fired a shot and changed the course of history. Hell, he _made _history."

"You're talking about Heero Yuy, aren't you?"

Damn. He didn't miss a single thing. That kid was something else. There wasn't really any point in confirming something the boy knew, but Odin did it anyway.

"Yes. I was the one who shot him. Those were my orders. It wasn't right and I knew it…but back then, there didn't seem to be much of a difference. I killed because I was trained to be an assassin. Being a weapon is fine for a while. But when the gun runs out of bullets, then it's nothing but empty." The words were bitter on his tongue. It was a truth he'd always known but never wanted to admit. Now, though, seemed to be the right time. The _only _time.

"Look, kid, don't ever let yourself be used. It's dangerous and you'll probably be killed sooner then later… But it's better to die because you cared enough about something rather then you were just following orders." There. That was it. There was nothing left to say. Somehow, though, he felt heavier then when he'd started. So much for the benefits of talking about it. The boy seemed to have listened, or at least wasn't saying anythin to counter it. Odin hoped he had. Odin hoped he'd heard every word.

Behind them, the door that opened onto the roof clicked open. This was soon followed by the clack of booted feet. Just what he'd been waiting for Odin reached into an inner pocket for his small pocket knife.

"Hey!" said an authoritative male voice. "What are you doing here?" Odin turned before he'd even finished his sentence and released the knife with a casual flick of his wrist. The solider made an almost squawking sound as the knife cleanly punctured the skin of his chest.

"Hey!" said his companion, starting forward. This man was armed, but considering he held a rocket launcher, Odin didn't feel much threatened. Suddenly like a little brown blur, the kid shot up to the soldier and expertly kicked his feet out from under him, sending the soldier toppling backward and his head cracking hard onto the floor. Odin raised his eyebrows. Well. He'd never taught him _that _one. He couldn't remember even _doing _that one. He grinned.

"Impressive, kid."

"I'd teach you, but you're too old for it," the boy said, picking up the rocket launcher almost too easily and inspecting it. When he was done he looked up at Odin and smiled faintly. "You probably wouldn't be able to get up again."

"Shut up, brat," Odin said with a laugh, and began to pull the military jacket off the unconscious shoulder. "You know if you used that thing, you'll knock yourself flat on your ass," he said, nodding toward the rocket launcher.

"All I have to do is brace myself right," the kid said, hefting the large weapon onto his tiny shoulder and glancing through the scope. "Anyway, Howell showed me the security access codes for the weight room, so I'm stronger then I was before."

_Before? _Odin thought, almost speaking this question aloud but deciding against it. He honestly didn't want to know. Soon he was outfitted in one soldier's jacket and the other's trousers. The shirt was a bit small and the trousers a bit too big, but Odin was glad it wasn't the other way around. Both soldiers had feet the size of ballerinas so he would have to make do with his not quite standard boots and hope to get away with it. He slipped on the too large helmet that smelled faintly of sweat and coconut shampoo and looked down at the kid. He was holding the rocket launcher loosely and returning his gaze with an unreadable expression.

"Well, this is goodbye," he said, knowing somewhere that it was absolutely true.

"Don't overdo it. Remember, you are old." There was a genuine concern in his voice. Odin smiled. The first true smile he'd had in a long time.

"I'm forty-seven, kid, and don't you forget it. And you're only six, so try not to get yourself killed just yet."

"I won't. I've got much better aim."

Ouch. Well…there was nothing to say to that. Nothing to say at all any more. Odin turned and walked away, smile fading as he switched his focus back on the mission at hand.

---

Odin knelt on the floor, giving his rifle one last check. He was kneeling at the junction of two corridors, one which stretched out behind him, dead ending in a metal wall, and another that ran across his path.

Everything was ready. The violin case had been set up next to the nerve center of the building. The command center was bigger then he'd anticipated, and after a few rough recalculations, he doubted the bomb would be enough to completely destroy it. About the most it could do was wipe out the central operations room and several floors going either way. But that would be quite enough to confuse the hell out of things for a few months until they got their systems back on line. Now the only thing left to do was assassinate General Septem…who should have been through this corridor ten minutes ago.

Odin shifted the rifle to one hand and with the other, pushed the helmet back into place. It slipped down again. With a grunt of frustration he ripped it off and flung it down the hall, then wiped his sweating palm on the front of his uniform. This entire operation had been easy. Very easy. Of course, Dekim Barton, the man who'd hired him for this assassination, was acting on the inside. But Odin wasn't even sure if he trusted the man, especially since Barton had been an old friend of Yuy's.

And too, Odin _knew _Septem. He'd worked under him long enough when he was a young man to realize the general may be loud and obnoxious, but underneath it, was as sneaky as a rat. How else could he have survived four different assassination attempts without as much as a scratch? There was something about this entire operation that just didn't sit right with him. He couldn't back out now, though. This was his last mission. He didn't want to retire knowing he had failed.

There was a mechanical whirring sound and Odin tensed, adjusting the rifle to a ready position. Diagonally right from him, the elevator doors whooshed open. Septem stepped out, along with a few of his aides, followed by Barton. All of them had their backs turned to them. Odin squinted through the scope at Septem's broad back. "We must connect the emergency circuits at all costs!" he was saying to one of his underlings.

"Yessir," said the other man, whether agreeing with him or agreeing to follow orders, Odin didn't know. This was the perfect shot. He could Septem down without the general even knowing he was there. But- Somehow- He couldn't do it. If he was going to kill the man his mentor had respected so greatly, he was going to do it to his face.

"Septem!" he called. The small company turned to look back at him. At first, the general merely looked surprised, then recognition flooded his face.

"O-Odin Lowe?" he stammered. Barton gave Odin a hard look over the general's shoulder. The assassin hesitated from pulling the trigger. Had Barton changed his mind?

"Y-you bastard!" the general snarled, just as Barton gave him an affirmative nod and slipped away. Odin hesitated a second longer, then squeezed the trigger, just as one of his aides jumped in the way, taking the bullet for his general. Ohh _shit! _Odin threw the rifle to the side and ran for it.

"Open fire!" Septem bellowed. "Don't let him get away!" Gunfire erupted behind him. There was another elevator at the end of the hall and around the corner. He had set it up as his secondary escape route so as long as he reached it, he would be okay. Just as he reached the end of the corridor, pain exploded in his left calf, making him stumble. Damnit! He dove around the corner and into the waiting doors of the lift. He slammed the switch that would close the doors and pressed the button to go down to the basement level. It was used as an underground storage area, the perfect hiding place.

Only when the elevator started did he allow himself to slump against the wall. His calf throbbed and itched as blood trailed down his skin and plipped softly on the metal floor. Odin closed his eyes and leaned his head back. That had had been stupid. _Really _stupid. Odin smirked to himself. For the first time in his life he'd followed his own advice and the only thing it got him was a bullet in the leg. But, strangely, that was okay. A part of him was relieved he hadn't been able to bring himself to shoot Septem in the back. Maybe he _was _human after all.

The lift doors opened and he limped quickly out. Giving the room a quick scan, his eyes settled on some tall crates and he made his way over to them. Once there, he collapsed and began searching his borrowed pockets for something to stop the bleeding with. With as many pockets as these uniforms had, the soldier's had to put something in them. The efforts of his search proved rewarding as he found a handkerchief in the lower side pocket of the shirt.

After bandaging his wound the best he could, he sat back and stared across the storage area without really seeing it. He hoped the kid was all right. Knowing the boy, he'd probably gotten shot or gotten too near a bomb or something to keep him in bed for a week. Heh. Maybe when he got out of here, he should go see what hospital the kid was staying at and say hi. But, no. The last thing the boy needed was Odin to show up again. He seemed to be doing fine without the man's guidance. It was depressing really… For five years, all Odin had ever been telling himself was that he couldn't stand the little brat and couldn't wait to get rid of him. Now that the kid was on his own, Odin wanted to be back in his life…just to see him grow. For some reason, thinking of his little protégé made him remember the bomb that he'd set up. That was about ten floors above him, so he'd be all right for now. He took the ignition key from his trouser pocket turned it upside down to nudge off the little safety switch that kept it from accidentally going off. It really was little too, so that he could only really push it with a fingernail. It also appeared stuck. Ah bloody damnit. Why was everything going against him?

Suddenly, footsteps rang through the air, Odin hid the ignition key behind his back, frantically scratching at the safety with his thumb to deactivate it. The footsteps came closer.

"Are you all right?" said a voice that could only belong to Dekim Barton. Odin breathed an inward sigh of relief and looked up to see that he'd been right. He'd never been so glad to see that bald old head. At the moment, Barton had disappointment written all over his face.

"Don't worry," Odin said, showing the man the ignition key. "This place will blow with one press of this button." _As soon as I can get the bloody safety off, _he added mentally.

"I see," Barton said. Suddenly Odin found himself staring at the barrel of a gun.

"You want me silenced?" he asked, feeling more then a little insulted. "There's no need for that." And he shouldn't have even had to tell the man. Odin had been too careful to build his reputation to someone who could be trusted. Everyone knew that. Okay, well, Septem probably had doubts at the moment, but he was-

"This is revenge," Barton said, darkly. The shot was strangely quiet, but the bullet seemed to burn into his chest far longer then it should have. The next thing Odin knew, he was lying on the ground, hand clenched to stop the blood that flowed freely between his fingers. Ah…damn.

"Y…you've planned this si…since you hired me…" Odin said, not really asking or expecting an answer. Barton only walked away, shoes echoing on the floor. Odin rested his head on his outstretched arm. Blood pooled on the floor beneath him and pain shuddered through him with every breath. The idiot hadn't quite hit his heart. But either way, Odin had just been assassinated. Heh. How ironic.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours and the cold metal floor didn't change much. God, dying was boring. It was justification, he supposed. He'd never really minded the thought of death as long as it could be done quickly. It was getting cold, too. That irritated him somewhat. His body just _had _to be dramatic about it. Again, there came the sound of footsteps. Light footsteps, running toward him.

"Odin!" that simple word, in that voice and that tone warmed him more then he could ever remember feeling. The kid knelt beside him and Odin pushed himself up so he could look the boy in the face.

"All right, I am old…" he said with a faint smile. "I admit it… I'm really fifty-two… Are you happy?" This pose wasn't helping the leakage situation and pain spasmed through him again. The boy gently helped him on his back so he could stare at the cold metal ceiling for a change.

"You wait here. I'll secure an escape route," the kid said, getting to his feet. He should just let the kid go… But suddenly he didn't want to die alone.

"Don't worry about it, kid. It's too late."

The boy came to stand over him again. He didn't seem sad at all, just accepting. It was that same expression that had so infuriated Odin when the kid had almost shot him last year. Now, though, he understood it. Now it was okay. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision and the cold was more like a weight now. Still, it was gradual, slow, dramatic… Well, since it didn't appear he was going to die any other way, might as well go with it.

"Don't forget…what I told you before we last left. Best advice I could ever give you…" Odin wasn't sure if he closed his eyes or not. It seemed not since he could still see the boy staring serenely down at him, but little flashes of the past blurred through his vision. The first time he'd taught the boy to use a gun. Pushing the boy on a swing. Watching him from a distance as he pushed himself on a merry-go-round at that orphanage on L-4. God, he loved that kid.

"You…k...know. The y…years we spent t…together…." Odin trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts. It was hard, like he was reaching for them at a distance. Speaking wasn't easy but he forced himself to continue. "Weren't s…so bad..." Then his eyes slipped closed. He was positive of it this time…but still the image of the boy's face remained. A single burning light before darkness utterly consumed him.


	17. Purpose

It was raining…again. The boy stared out of the broken window the grey streaks that hammered the ground outside. The colony's weather system had been activated the day Odin had died, and ever since then had gone completely haywire. The boy had never been on any colony long enough to observe a functional weather system, but he was fairly certain it wasn't supposed to be ninety one day and snowing the next. Fortunately, they had managed to get it somewhat under control. Now most days were calm, but occasionally a rain shower would pop up and cause havoc with the colony's drainage system.

He'd been living here for the past few days, thinking on what Odin had told him. It was a small apartment, previously occupied. The boy assumed that the person who had lived here died in the battle. When he'd arrived, there were all the signs of someone leaving in a hurry. Initially he'd hidden in the closet, using it only as a refuge to get out of the freezing rain. But as it became apparent that whoever had lived here wasn't coming back, he'd come out and arranged things as he liked… If throwing away the mounds of fast food delivery boxes could be considered arranging. Then he'd cleaned the counters, mopped and vacuumed the floors, spent a day or two figuring out how to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom and now was completely out of things to do.

It wasn't that he was bored exactly, which he was, but that he wasn't sure what to do. Even after he'd decided to go to the base instead of continuing with Odin, he'd been doing something. Mostly training and preparing. He could probably go back and pick up where he left off, only he wasn't sure what he was training for any more. Fighting for the colonies seemed to be a good idea, because Odin had given his life to do it...but the boy had never been certain why he was defending the colonies in the first place. He could just as easily be fighting for earth. Why had he changed his mind? The boy was sure it wasn't just because Odin had been tired of following orders. Perhaps it was because Odin was from the colonies. Unfortunately, that answer left the boy even more lost then he was before. He supposed he was _technically _from the colonies as he'd been born on L-1, but he'd never really had a home anywhere. What did it matter if the Alliance took over anyway? He just didn't understand.

With a heavy sigh, the boy turned from the window and looked around vainly for something to do. Everything was gleaming, the bed was made and wrinkle free and the carpet had been vacuumed so many times it was looking a little worn. Sighing again he wandered over to the refrigerator which he knew was empty even before he opened the door. He would have to do something about food. What, though, he wasn't quite sure. Stealing was always an option, but with that there was a risk he could get caught. Not that anyone here would suspect him of anything, but he'd rather keep out of someone's filing system for a while. Perhaps he should see if the community center down the street was still going to have that free dinner. They'd been advertising it for a week, putting up little sheets of pink paper on every light pole within a ten block radius. At the bottom it had stated that it would go on barring unusual weather.

As the rain didn't seem to be turning into a hail of frogs any time soon, the boy pulled on his shoes and climbed out the window to the fire escape. Using the front door could easily alert someone else in the apartment building that he was staying there. As young as he looked, he would be asked endless questions, which he really didn't really feel like coming up with answers for. The rain tapered off as he reached the bottom. Instead of kicking out the ladder, he jumped the six or so feet, only stumbling a little when he hit the ground. He had definitely improved. The first time he'd tried he'd landed flat on his butt.

Unconsciously shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, he started down the cracked and sometimes entirely missing sidewalk. This colony was still recovering from the battle and the odd weather wasn't helping matters any. The boy turned his gaze to the scarred buildings towering around him. He wondered if they would give up now. Probably not. People were stubborn that way…and rebels seemed to be more then others…even though there didn't seem to be a point to what they did.

The community center was only two blocks from the apartment. It was a small, one level wooden structure that had been patchily repaired between the weather spurts. Artificial twilight was coming on and the taped windows gleamed with a welcoming light. Suddenly the door opened. The boy paused mid-step, instinctively searching for a threat. There seemed nothing threatening about the middle aged man who stood there. He didn't even seem to notice the boy, but leaned out of the door frame and stuck his hand, palm up in the air.

"It finally stopped raining," he called over his shoulder.

"For good, I hope, said another voice. The man stepped back as fat old woman stepped past him, clutched her coat around her and waddled off down the street. The man poked his head around the doorframe once more.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Mahaffey!" he called, then, seemingly at random, his eyes fell on the boy and he started slightly. Then he smiled.

"Hello there. I haven't seen you around. Are you here for the feast?"

The boy nodded.

"Well come on in," the man said with a large gesture. The boy felt a little uncomfortable sidling past him to get inside. Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder; the boy jumped and just about grabbed his gun before forcibly stopping himself. The hand jerked away and when he turned, saw the man holding up both hands and giving him a truly apologetic look.

"I'm sorry. I was just leading you inside. I have two sons of my own so I sort of acted on instinct."

The boy forced himself to relax, but kept a wary on the man anyway.

"Can I take your jacket?" the man asked. It was an actual question and the man waited for an answer before making a move.

"No," the boy said, hoping the man wouldn't insist or ask why. He merely smiled and inclined his head.

"Follow me, then."

The man led him across the spacious room that looked like a cross between a living room and a gym. As they neared the door on the other end, food smells drifted into the boy's nose. His stomach grumbled in spite of himself. All he'd had lately were pieces of bologna and a few withered celery stalks. The man paused before the door, resting his hand on the knob.

"You can call me Mr. Eton, by the way. Who should I introduce you as?"

"Don't," the boy said, ready to turn around and go back to the apartment if the man pressed the matter. Again, it didn't take long for the man to acquiesce. With another small nod, he pushed the door open and let the boy follow him in. The dining room reminded him of the one in the orphanage. It was a relatively small room, but rows of cafeteria tables filled it one corner to the other, four wide and five long. The far side of the room was occupied by elevated platform, too low to really be called a stage. A large trestle table sat on it, nearly sagging with the weight of food. Most of the tables were filled and the people at them were too occupied with each other to take much notice of him. A man sitting near the end noticed though and grinned broadly.

"Who you got there?" the man asked.

"Just an old acquaintance, Bart," Eton said, waving the matter away. The other man laughed and turned his attention to something a lady sitting beside him was saying.

"Well as you can see, the food is just up there. Once you're done, you're welcome to sit with me." Eton winked cheerfully. "Less questions that way." The boy nodded, deciding to take him up on his offer. It would probably easier to take the food back to the apartment, but it was nice here. He enjoyed the light and the warmth. He couldn't risk using either of them at the apartment. The boy went to the table and piled as much food as possible on his plate. Once done, he looked at it critically. Was it conspicuous for an eight-year-old to eat so much? Or was this not enough? Odin would know… The boy thought back on the time they had spent together, trying to remember the amounts he'd eaten before. Unable to even hazard a guess, the boy shrugged the concern off. It wouldn't do to try _too _hard to blend in. Anyway, if everyone ate the same amount there wouldn't be any fat people.

This decided, he looked around for Eton and found him sitting at a table nearest to the platform and far right. The man caught his glance and waved invitingly. The boy hesitated a moment. The table was almost full of people and people meant questions…but…Eton had managed to sidestep one, so maybe it would be all right.

The table turned out to have food as well. Not only were there three baskets of bread, but a bowl of oranges and two pitchers of liquid, one that looked like milk the other was a strange blue color that looked alarmingly like coolant. Eton took a little plastic cup from the stack at the far end of the table, poured some milk into it and set it in front of the boy. Suddenly the man smacked himself in the forehead.

"Oops. Sorry. Fathering again. Did you want milk?"

The boy shrugged, indicating he really didn't care one way or the other and took a sip. A woman sitting across from the boy laughed lightly.

"You'd father old Mr. Chin if you had half the chance," she said.

"Well, I would if I weren't afraid old Mr. Chin wouldn't blow my head off as soon as I stepped through the door," Eton said lightly, taking a roll and breaking it in half. Even though he had spoken of his sons, and children usually meant a wife of some kind, the man didn't seem to have either. The boy shrugged off the thought. Curious as he was, it didn't really matter.

"So, what's your name, hon?" the woman asked warmly. Eton once again came to the rescue.

"The young gentleman has declined to give it as it would undoubtedly reveal his secret identity."

"Oh, you," the woman laughed, slapping at his hand. "You're such a tease."

"That may be, my lady. But laughter is, as they say, the best medicine."

The idle chatter continued and the boy was grateful to be left out of it. The more he listened, the more he found he appreciated Eton. Liked was maybe too strong a word. But he was intelligent and friendly and reminded the boy all to well of another compassionate adult that had been fond of children. Suddenly he felt the presence of someone looming over his shoulder and tensed. He twisted his head back at saw it was the jovial man, Bart, who had greeted them when he'd walked in. This time though, the man didn't seem to notice him nor did he look the least bit jovial. Instead he leaned close to Eton's ear. The boy's keen hearing picked up the whisper without any difficulty.

"The men want to have a talk."

"Bart…" Eton said with a sigh. "This really isn't the time for-"

"You don't understand. Some of 'em are talking about quitting and hiding out on one of the smaller colonies. If you don't talk them out of it now, we won't have legs to stand on."

"All right, Bart, all right. Just let me finish my chicken."

The other man nodded and walked away. Eton stared pensively down at the remains of his meal for a moment, then stood up without taking another bite and made his way to the platform. From the moment his foot tapped on the wooden stage, the boy knew he was important. The room was suddenly filled with such silence it was almost loud. Eton raised his hands, before he could speak, a woman's voice rose up from the back.

"We know what you're going to say, but you can just forget it. We lost too many good men today."

"Seven, Amy. We lost seven out of eighty." He spoke coolly and calmly and the boy was impressed.

"You speak as if only the unit matters, not the people in it!"

"You know I don't feel that way."

"It sure doesn't seem like it."

"Ah belt up," said a man from another corner. "Two of those people were Jacob and Turner in case you forgot. And I see you still have _your _family."

"Amy, Miles, please," Eton said, face noticeably paler but his eyes were like steel. "The point is, we managed to do some damage to them. We even started winning before they got the circuits back on line. This battle may be hard, but it isn't impossible."

"But how long do we keep on losing?" said someone else. "How much more can sacrifice before we have nothing left?"

"But there's so much more to _gain_. If we manage to win freedom for this colony, think of how it would affect the rest of the cluster. People would have hope. They would realize the Alliance isn't unbeatable."

"What do I care about what happens to L-3?" said Amy. "L-2 is still starving and miserable. I had to move here just so I could support my family.

"L-5 isn't in much better shape, woman," snapped an old man in the back, presumably Mr. Chin.

"Don't you dare use that tone-" the woman started.

"Mr. Chin was just being blunt, Amy. You know how he is," Eton said. The woman looked as if she were about to argue, but then slumped back, defeated.

"It's just…how is L-3 being free help my family?"

"Because the effect won't be _limited _to L-3. The other colonies will follow suit once they see a strong and united cluster. Maybe we can even get the Winners to see that it isn't impossible. Once the rebellion has that kind of backing, the Alliance will be sent back to earth in no time."

"It's not just about money," the boy said, standing on his stool to be able to look Eton straight in the face. "It's about training and organization. That's why the army works much more efficiently."

"That may be," Eton said with a tired but sincere smile. "But we're still obligated to give it a try."

"Why?" the boy asked. An indignant yell erupted from the other side of the room.

"Here!" Miles yelled. "Just what are you meaning by that, you little-"

"It's a legitimate question," Eton cut in.

"But you can't just-"

"Thank you, Miles. I appreciate your support," Eton said in a tone that had sit down written all over it. The man reluctantly obeyed. Eton turned his full attention back to the boy, looking quite serious and not at all patronizing. The boy slipped the man into his 'respected' category.

"You were saying?" the man said.

"Why?" the boy repeated patiently. "What does it matter if the Alliance takes over or not? Why fight?"

"Because we must. Because these are our homes…and not just L-3, but all the colonies."

"But aren't they your homes no matter who is governing?"

"Yes. But it's rather like a leopard trying to take over a lion pride. They may have the same _form _but they'll never understand it… And that didn't answer your question, did it?" Eton said with a small laugh. "Fine. Maybe it doesn't make sense. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, this is all one pointless exercise. We fight because our hearts tell us to fight. Because we have to be true to ourselves and follow our true feelings, no matter how hard the road becomes."

Now _that _made perfect sense. Finally an adult who could communicate. Well, if they were going to fight, he supposed he would too. Like Odin had said, they needed people like them. People who were both efficient and organized. So he would fight for Odin and Miss Celia…and all the people they loved. And, following Eton's reasoning, the colonies were the boy's home as well. All of them. It was right to fight for your home.

The boy nodded to show that he was satisfied with the man's answer and sat back down. He had found what he was looking for, so it was time to check that disk Howell had given him. Sneaking off now would cause too much attention. But as soon as this little dinner was over, he would go to the library. It was only four blocks away and should have terminal access.

The library, which on the outside seemed to have suffered little from the fighting, but inside was a complete mess. Books and loose pages cluttered the floor. Colored bits of wiring poked out of paneled walls where people had ripped away the security devices. The terminals, though, remained. The boy supposed that made sense. There wasn't much use for them with the colonies networking system still messed up and trying to transport one off colony with the shuttles as unreliable as they were at the moment wasn't worth the effort.

After a search to find the library's power circuit in order to turn the terminal on, the boy settled himself on the chair in front of the monitor, scowling slightly as his feet dangled in the air, not even close to connecting with the floor. He hated being short. Shoving the complaint to the side, he booted the terminal up, and glanced at the disk Howell had given him. It was, what Howell had termed, a stealth disk. Which meant he would be able to look at its contents until a specific condition was met, like a time limit or the end of a program, and then the disk would not only erase itself but the entire hard drive.

He turned the disk through his fingers contemplatively. This was pretty sensitive information. Which meant that they wouldn't just let him walk away with the knowledge of it without having some sort of security. The boy checked his senses carefully one by one, as Odin had always taught him. If there was anyone here, they were hiding exceptionally well. For a moment, the boy thought of doing a more thorough search, but quickly dismissed the thought. As long as he made it clear he was fighting for the colonies, they wouldn't be a threat.

That in mind, he popped the disk into the drive. There was a lengthy moment while the old terminal worked to process the information, and then, a picture popped up, glaringly white in the darkness of the room. Before the boy could quite figure out what he was looking at, the picture changed. It was the same object, but at a different angle. The boy cocked his head. It seemed to be the schematics of some sort of mobile suit. Although he had very little experience with mobile suit technology, this was definitely not a Leo.

The pictures continued to change. The pace was slow enough for him to understand what he was looking at, but not so slow as to give him any time to study it. It didn't take long for the boy to realize that this was unlike any mobile suit he'd ever heard of. If he understood these designs right, this unit would be far more powerful then anything out there. The image of the beam canon abruptly blacked out and the boy found himself staring at a dark screen. By his knee, the terminal whirred and clicked distressingly loud as it tried to upload this new information. Suddenly Howell's face appeared in the monitor. The boy blinked, only mildly taken aback. The scientist was wearing his manic grin and seemed to be staring straight at him. This was just part of the recording though. Not even Howell could have patched a communication down here with the state of the linkup on this colony.

"I think you've had enough time to get the gist," said the scientist. "That, kodomo, is a little something we call Wing. I designed the color scheme myself-" The man's smile wavered a bit. "Although you can't really get a full appreciation of it with these blueprints." The scientist sighed heavily, then almost immediately brightened again. "But that's neither here nor there. Your mission if you choose to accept it is to fight for the colonies. As they say, kodomo, check yes or no."

Something which looked like notebook paper flashed up on the screen, repeating the mission statement in a childlike scrawl. Below it was one box marked yes. The other no. The boy rolled his eyes. Howell had such a weird sense of humor. He clicked on the yes box.

"Mission accepted," he said to the benefit of the supposed hidden assassin. Howell's face reappeared again.

"Good boy. I knew you had it in you. You'll meet your contact next Tuesday at fourteen hundred, you'll know the street." Howell winked and turned from the screen, then quickly turned back, slapping his hands on the desk. "Oh, and this disk is going to self-detonate in ten seconds so I'd start running if I were you."

The boy was halfway down the library steps when the small bomb went off. He was well clear of the blast and turned to see fire belching out the open door. An alarm went off overhead and suddenly rain thundered down around him, cold and almost painful. The boy hunched into his jacket and began the long walk back to the apartment. On one hand, it felt good to have a mission again. On the other, he was a little concerned.

The problem was Howell. He appreciated the man, he really did. The blond scientist was one of the few adults who actually treated the boy like he was one of them. Howell's problem was that he tended to treat the boy on the same level as a scientist as well. Howell expected him to know obscure facts and notice strange patterns in totally unfamiliar machinery. While the boy may have been advanced for his age, he wasn't _that _advanced. It wasn't only Howell claiming the boy would 'know' the street, but it was the nature of the mission as well. The boy wasn't sure what he was going to be doing. Was Howell aware just how little the boy knew about mobile suits?

The boy narrowed his eyes. On the other hand...Howell might have been vague on purpose. This could be some sort of test to see how fit the boy really was for this job. Well, he would prove his worth. As Odin used to say, when there's only one option left, make sure it's succeeding.

---

The boy walked calmly down the street. He kept his features relaxed but his mind was alert for anything. This was a bad part of town. As he was only wearing a tank top and shorts, he doubted he would be targeted, but it was always wise to stay alert. The clothes were significant in that they were the only ones he had left. What little else he'd had, he'd sold to the pawn shop to buy some food. There wasn't much left to it now. If he ate carefully, he might be able to stretch his food supply another few days, but that was about it. Hopefully he would meet his contact today. If not--

He didn't even want to think about it. It would mean he'd be trapped on this colony indefinitely. Once again he would have to rely on someone to take care of him until they deemed him old enough to help in the rebellion… If the rebels hadn't wiped themselves out by then.

It didn't take long until he came across the street he _hoped _was the right one. The boy paused for a moment, staring at the stained grey sign bearing the street's name. G. Hane Road. Probably named after Geoffrey Hane, the founder of this colony. When the boy found this road the other day, the name Hane had struck him. Without knowing how, the boy was fairly certain that the word hane was Japanese for feather. A feather was part of a wing. Howell had often commented on how he'd studied on L-1 where the majority of the population was Japanese. This street seemed just the kind of thing Howell like if he were trying to be clever. The boy shook his head and started down the road which was really nothing more then an alley. Scientists had a strange sense of humor. Come to think of it, so had Odin. Maybe it was an adult…thing.

Slowing his pace a bit, the boy looked around carefully. Noticing every shadowed door, every window, every smaller even more cramped alley that branched out from this one. At first there was nothing and he tensed, thinking he'd guessed wrong, but then a flicker of movement caught his eye. The boy approached slowly and saw an old man, slumped against the wall. This was definitely his contact. He looked to strange to be anything else.

"You've got good eyes," the old man said, silver devices on his eyes glinting slightly as he turned his head to look up at the boy. "Want to pilot a Gundam?"

"Sure," the boy said. So he _was _going to pilot.

"A shuttle departs in two hours. There's a reserved seat for DJ junior."

"Hn," the boy said to confirm that he'd understood. Then he started to walk away.

"Hey wait!" the man said. The boy paused, looking over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to help an old man up?"

"You're just a hologram," he said, continuing on his way to the spaceport. Behind him there was a quiet chuckle and a muttered:

"This should be interesting." Then a quiet blip as the holographic program ended. The boy didn't even know where he was going, but that was all right. He finally had a purpose…and Odin _was _proud.

---

Author's Note: Ummm…nothing to say. .

Disclaimer: . . . -shrugs-

Night (ME WANT TILDE) Mare


	18. The Beginnings of a Hero

It had been a long time since he'd been to L-1. Thinking back, he couldn't remember Odin ever taking him, although he was fairly sure they'd gone once or twice. The boy sat on a plastic chair and stared around the crowded spaceport as he waited for his contact. He kicked his feet and idly watched a couple sitting across the way. They were having a heated argument in Japanese. The language was strange. He couldn't remember having spoken it before, but if he listened hard enough, he could almost understand what they were saying. Someone was approaching close to his other side; the boy turned his head and saw what was undeniably his contact. The scientist smiled and waved broadly.

"Hello, kodomo. Nice flight?"

"I thought you were still on L-3," the boy said as they started across the terminal.

"Well, I was, but I had to finish up a few things. And since I was here, sensei told me to come get you. Easier to trust someone you know, right?"

The boy nodded. Besides the fact that his original contact would have drawn far too much attention to himself. Although Howell wasn't much better. It wasn't just that Howell was blond where most everyone else was dark haired, but he walked in a loose, easy way and chatted loudly about trivial little things. The boy listened halfheartedly to him, keeping most of his concentration on his surroundings. As they exited the terminal, the boy's gaze was drawn upward and what he saw made him smile. Clouds drifted serenely through the air, fluffy and white. Beside him, Howell sighed.

"Ridiculous things, aren't they? They really are pretty useless. People just want to see them because it reminds them of earth. They just want something to comfort them."

"There's nothing wrong with being comforted," the boy murmured. Howell laughed.

"I suppose not. But it's a little surprising to hear that coming from you."

"Hn…" the boy said, for lack of anything better. What did Howell mean by _that _exactly? They walked in relative silence for two blocks, heading in an eastern direction from the spaceport. Then they got in a cab, Howell ordering the driver to go the Kimaji Bath House. Howell began to speak to the driver in Japanese. Even though the tone of their voices indicated casual conversation, the boy couldn't help but feel a little edgy. Though Howell had treated him well in the base, he wasn't yet in the trusted category. The scientist was too unpredictable and always seemed to have an agenda of his own. Again, though, the boy found if he listened hard enough, he could almost understand what they were talking about.

Even though it made him nervous not to know, it was aggravating to almost know. He turned his gaze out the window, trying to tune the conversation out. After about twenty minutes, the cab stopped. Howell tossed some bills into the front seat and ducked out. The boy followed him. They walked past a huge, lavishly decorated building, then turned onto a street obviously reserved for the wealthy. A couple of blocks later they were in front of what looked like a small spaceport.

"It's bigger then it looks," Howell said with a grin. The boy glared up at him. Was it really necessary to tell the whole world? They went through the iron gates and around the small building to a plain wooden door in the west entrance. Two men were guarding it. They seemed to be trying to look casual, but anyone could see how they tensed up when he and Howell arrived. Also the way their hands drifted toward the slight bulges in their jackets. With a start, the boy realized he did the same thing. Whenever he was startled, his first instinct was to reach for his gun. He would have to stop that. It was one thing to always be ready, but another to show your enemies how ready you were.

"What do you have there?" asked one of the men, letting his hand drop back to his side.

"Oh, just a little present from Dr. J," Howell said brightly. The men stared at him surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"What _him_?" said the second man.

"J really _must _be getting senile," said the first one. "To let a kid like him be a candidate" The boy kept his gaze centered on the door, even though the man's words surprised him. What did he mean candidate? Were their others competing for Wing?

"Don't mind them," Howell said, leading him through the door and down a long metal corridor. "They're idiots."

"How many others like me are there?" he asked. Howell chuckled.

"Perceptive, aren't you?" he said, but that was it. The boy hadn't really expected him to answer. He narrowed his eyes. Well, it didn't matter. The boy would prove that he was better then all of them… no matter what he had to do.

Not two halls later, they entered a hangar and there it was. The boy paused in the doorway, staring at it. So…this was Wing. It wasn't all there. The head, the torso and the right arm being the only things attached. A few mechanics were perched on the mechanical body, talking in loud voices to one another.

"What do you think?" Howell asked, making a grand sweeping gesture. The boy shrugged lightly. He honestly wasn't sure what to think. He walked further into the hangar, craning his head up as he came closer. The mobile suit seemed to stare down at him.

"Ready to test the arm hydraulics!" one of the mechanics called.

"Anti-grav boosters all clear?" asked another. The first one leapt down and leaned over a consol. The boy came closer, peering around the scientists shoulder to see what he was doing.

"What do you need anti-grav boosters for?" the boy asked as the man began to flick a series of switches. The mechanic jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to look down at him.

"W…well the arm is too heavy for any normal person to lift so we have to make it weightless so we can test the movement."

Someone was coming up behind him. The boy turned his head slightly, trying to see if he could hear what kind of person it was. It seemed…two people, one that walked with a cane. By the casual sound of their footsteps they didn't seem to be a threat.

"Who are you anyway?" the mechanic asked.

"Let me test it," the boy said, turning his attention back to the mechanic. The man blinked.

"Wh…what?!"

"Let me test the arm," the boy repeated patiently. "I'll figure out how to work it."

"Look, kid-"

"Let him, Fujita," said one of the men behind him. The boy recognized the voice.

"Uuuh, all right…"

The boy started for the mobile suit even before the, man had agreed. He climbed the ladder up to the cockpit and glared at the other mechanic until the man moved and jumped to the ground. Hmm. That was a good eight feet. He'd have to learn to do that. He sat down and wrapped his hand around the control lever. The machine hummed around him, vibrating softly. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled like leather and oil and other things that he couldn't identify. Yes. This would be his. There was a soft whine and the vibration changed slightly.

"Anti-grav boosters all checked out. Ready when you are, kid."

"Confirmed," the boy said, opening his eyes. "Commencing test." He tightened his fingers around the lever and pulled back, the arm moved smoothly up. Clenching and unclenching his fingers around the grip made the mobile suit's hand do the same. He experimented a bit, discovering if he moved his whole arm instead of just his hand, there was less of a strain on his wrist. After a while whine of the boosters took on a higher pitch. They were probably starting to overheat. The boy eased the arm slowly down.

"Test complete. Deactivate the boosters."

The mechanic's acknowledgement was heavy with sarcasm. Hmmph. No matter what he did, they would still only think him as a kid. Well- It didn't matter. He would prove his worth. The boy went to the edge of the cockpit, hesitating a moment before jumping to the ground. He landed in a half-crouch, hands slapped forward to keep his balance and one knee smacking painfully against the metal floor. Definitely not good enough. Rising stiffly to his feet, he went over to the pair of mechanics who looked like they were trying to stifle their laughter. The strange old man who'd been his first contact was standing a bit behind them, with another man at his side that the boy didn't recognize. The boy acknowledged them with a nod and turned toward the mechanics.

"The arm catches if you move it too far to the right and then the fingers won't close all the way," the boy said. That only increased their amusement for some reason.

"Thinks he knows what he's talking about," said the first one with a laugh. "Sounds like my nephew. Would calmly state the moon was made of cheese if he had the chance."

"I don't know. I think he might be on to something," said the other mechanic with a mocking smile. He went to one knee and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And what do you think the problem is, son?" The other mechanic broke into loud laughter.

"The _problem _is that the ball joint in the shoulder keeps cutting off the fuel line," the boy said, brushing the man's hand off him. "You either need to make a secondary fuel line, or run the first one through the ball joint." He noted with a small smirk that the mechanics had stopped laughing. "There might be an easier way, but I haven't had a good look at the blueprints yet."

"You continue to surprise me, boy," said the strange old scientist. The boy looked up at him and came a few steps closer.

"You're Dr. J," the boy said. The man nodded.

"I am. And this is Dr. Mitsuyo," he said, gesturing his robotic claw at the man standing beside him. Mitsuyo was a thin man with a pointed nose and small watery eyes set behind thick glasses. The younger scientist looked down at him, then turned to Dr. J.

"Don't tell me that this is what you bought me here for, J," the man snapped.

"Well, you did suggest I make a contribution to your little training program," the doctor said.

"What's _he_ going to be? The janitor?" Mitsuyo asked, directing a scowl down at the boy. "Or maybe the station cook?"

"I think you know better then that," Dr. J said calmly. "The boy could prove quite a capable pilot." Mitsuyo clenched his hands into fists.

"How _dare _you insult me by saying this _child _will be better then the candidates I've spent _years _conditioning?" The scientist suddenly smiled and straightened. "I think you know what will happen if I complain to certain authorities."

Dr. J smirked, seemingly completely unperturbed at the man's words.

"Nevertheless, the Gundam is my creation and I'm allowed some say in who I would like to pilot it."

"He won't last a week," said Mitsuyo darkly. The boy met Dr. J's strange gaze as it was turned on him. It was hard to guess what the old scientist might be thinking.

"I have every confidence in him. Besides, it will be Wing who truly decides."

The boy cocked his head. That was a strange thing to say. How could a mobile suit choose its pilot? Mitsuyo seemed to understand. The young scientist grunted and turned on his heel, feet clanking against the floor as he strode quickly away. After a final glance at Wing, the boy followed him.

One thing was for sure. Mitsuyo would definitely need to be watched carefully. Once the boy was under this doctor's care, he knew there would be no help for him. But that was all right. The boy didn't need help. It was time to learn to survive on his own.

"You know I won't go easy on you just because you're a kid," Mitsuyo said, turning his head slightly to look back at him. The boy didn't have any response to this. "You can back out now if you want. Just say the word and I'll have you on a shuttle home, first class."

"Don't talk to me like I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're intelligent, I'll give you that. But let's see if you can survive hell."

---

The personal shuttle stopped with a small jerk. This was a small satellite, just half an hour away from the main colony. The boy wondered what kind of training he had to go through that would require a satellite to do it on.

Mitsuyo stood from where he was sitting behind the pilot. The boy followed him wordlessly through the airlock. Another boy of about seventeen or so was leaning against the wall just inside the airlock, straightening as they came closer.

"Tatsu," the scientist said with a nod.

"Mitsuyo-sensei! Boku wa…" Tatsu trailed off as he finally seemed to notice the boy. He glanced down from the boy to the doctor again, a questioning look on his face. Mitsuyo waved a casual hand.

"Ah, this is Dr. J's idea of a candidate."

Tatsu stared a moment, then laughed and said something in Japanese. The scientist responded in kind, making the teenager laugh again. They were talking about him. He knew they were… but he didn't understand. They would definitely use that against him. Since he couldn't understand Tatsu's words, he studied the teenager's body, trying to get a feel for his abilities. There was no doubt in the boy's mind that Tatsu was one of the pilots. He was a lean, but had well defined muscles in his arms and legs.

The conversation seemed to switch gears then, because now it was Mitsuyo doing most of the talking. The teenager folded his arms, shifted his weight to one foot and began to absently kick the wall behind him with the other. Tatsu suddenly glared down at him, the boy met his dark, angry gaze, unflinchingly. Whether Tatsu had caught him staring or Mitsuyo had said something him that Tatsu didn't like, the boy didn't know. In any case, the boy wouldn't be able to find out much of anything about Tatsu now. He would have to go watch him in training some time.

He glanced away. The bulky metal door that lead out of the airlock stood open, revealing a short hall with a smaller metal door at the end. Although he wasn't sure about having Mitsuyo or Tatsu behind him, it might prove an advantage if he saw what he was heading into first. Moving past the teenager, he went at a steady pace through the hall, but remained alert to what was going on behind him. He reached the adjacent door and turned the handle

"I wouldn't!" Tatsu called in heavily accented English. The boy pushed through without hesitation. It felt like something hit him. Like a giant fist had punched him in the back and sent him slamming to the floor on hands and knees. At first he couldn't breathe, but when he finally managed to inhale, it felt like something was trying to crush his lungs. The boy quickly ran through the possibilities. There was no way a human could be doing this to him. Poison maybe? But Mitsuyo didn't consider him _that _much of a threat…did he?

There was a laugh behind him and the black and red athletic shoes that Tatsu wore appeared in his line of vision.

"Little baby, go home," the teenager said. "This place isn't for you…unless you want to die." Laughing again, Tatsu walked away. The boy could feel the doctor coming up beside him, he pushed himself up the best he could, but it felt like heavy weights were attached all over his body. Still, he managed to sit back on his legs and look the scientist in the face. Mitsuyo was smirking, arms folded lightly over his chest.

"Did you know that the gravity here is twelve times greater then what is normally used on the colonies? I must have forgotten to mention it earlier." He moved his shoulders in a dismissive gesture, then jerked his head to the left. "Your room is 887, down that way. If you're not in it in two hours, you're leaving." Then the scientist walked away. The boy waited until he was gone from sight until he slapped a hand against the wall and slowly got to his feet.

Just the very act of walking required all his concentration. With every step, gravity threatened to suck him back down again. It was hot here, too, and it didn't take long until sweat ran in long tickling trails down his face. It was almost like operating the leo again. The realization caused the boy to stumble. Of course! This was a form of strength training.

This solved, the boy pressed determinedly on, stopping only to peer up at the number on a nearby door. 493. Sighing softly, the boy continued. For a long time, there was nothing but a long, slightly curving corridor, and the harsh sound of his breath that seemed to echo off the walls and surround him. At around the 620's, a pair of lab coated men walked past. They gave him a curious look, and conversed vigorously with each other in Japanese for a moment, but didn't try to stop him. The next time he looked up, it was 742. Suddenly there was a muted hissing and someone stepped out directly in front of him. The boy stepped back, startled, lost his balance and fell hard.

The person turned out to be a girl who seemed just as startled as him. She too was a teenager, but looked a bit younger then Tatsu. Although it was hot, she wore a blue sweatshirt and heavy jeans. The clothes hid most of her, but couldn't cover the easy grace she used when she reached out a hand to the boy to help him up. He stood on his own, straightening but still leaning heavily on the wall. She retracted her hand and gave him an unreadable look.

"Hana-chan," called a male voice from inside the room. "Daijoubu ka?"

"Hai," she said, turning her attention to whomever was in the room. A young man poked his head around the doorframe. His skin had a fever like paleness and there were dark circles under his eyes. Hana stepped to the side to give him room and he stepped out to look at the boy fully. The boy scrutinized him in turn. He honestly wasn't sure what to think. This man was as well muscled as Tatsu and stood in a balanced, easy way. But the hand that was hanging loosely by his side was trembling slightly and every few seconds, his fingers twitched. It didn't seem like he could control it. The man caught him watching and a thin smile twisted his face. He lifted his arm, rolled back his sleeve and showed the boy a red puncture mark where a needle had buried into the skin.

"The penalties of being first," he said. He stared at the needle mark himself a moment, the side of his lip twitching in a bitter smile, then shook his sleeve down again. The man leaned against the doorframe casually, crossing one ankle over the other.

"So, you must be the new candidate." He raised an eyebrow. "A bit younger then I would have expected. Do you have a name to go with that dour look?"

"No."

"Hm. Probably better that way. They call me Domo. This is Hana," he said with a vague wave. The girl bowed slightly.

"Konnichiwa."

"She doesn't speak much English." Domo cocked his head. "And apparently you don't speak Japanese, considering the utterly idiotic look you were wearing in the airlock."

The boy narrowed his eyes, unconsciously stepping back with one foot to get better balance. How did he know that? Had he been hiding in the airlock somehow? Or perhaps he had access to some sort of surveillance system. Domo laughed. A short, bitter sound that that reminded the boy all to well of Odin.

"That idiot Tatsu underestimated you, I think. But not too much. I suppose you wouldn't like help to your room."

The boy didn't bother to answer and the man nodded.

"I thought not. But, please, allow me to escort you. If you'll just be so kind as to wait a minute." He then said something to Hana who nodded and disappeared back inside the room.

The boy stayed where he was. Domo would walk with him whether he wanted to or not and he'd rather not have the man behind him. He couldn't be sure if Domo wanted to help or hurt him. He wasn't sure of Domo at all…and that made Domo ten times as dangerous. He was all too conscious of the warm metal of the gun hidden in his tank top. It pressed against his belly almost like a comfort. If Domo tried anything-

"I wouldn't." The man casually shifted position and let his hands swing free. "Even as weak as I am, I'm still faster then you are."

The boy clenched his teeth. How did the man know? Suddenly he realized he'd been reaching for the gun unconsciously. The boy clenched his hand into a fist. Damnit.

"Besides, that wouldn't be a very nice way to start our new friendship."  
"Friendship?" the boy asked cynically.

"Mm," Domo said, still wearing that twisted smile. Then Hana came out, a large cloth bag hanging diagonally from her shoulders.

"Domo-sempai…" she said, pulling back her sleeve. The boy saw the glitter of a watch before he waved her away.

"Wakarimasu." Then he turned to the boy and gestured broadly. "Shall we?"

Although the boy still didn't trust Domo, he was glad the man walked patiently with him, just a few paces in the lead. There was just enough distance between them to make the boy lunging for him impossibility… At least in this gravity. Hana walked in step beside Domo, alternately glancing at her watch and offering the boy a nervous smile. Nothing was said until they reached the boy's room.

There was a security panel next the door. The boy hoped it was to keep people out rather then in. Domo spoke to Hana briefly and she went up to it and began tapping the buttons in a practiced way.

"The doctor likes to keep tabs on his people, so he locks the rooms that aren't monitored," Domo said, folding his arms and leaning on the wall beside her. The boy cocked his head.

"Wouldn't mine be monitored?"

"I'm sure. But Hana is bypassing the security code so you'll be able to lock your own room and no one can lock you in." Domo tossed his hair from his eyes. "You can reset the code later, because I'm sure you don't want me to know it."

There was a muffled beep and the door swooshed open. Domo swept in first, slumping down on the narrow bed that was directly opposite the door. Hana followed and disappeared from the door way. The boy made his way across the hall and when he got to the entrance, saw that she had pulled a panel from the wall and was beginning to sort through a jumble of wires.

"Come in," Domo said with a wave. "Stay a while." The boy did so and was startled into stopping. For a dizzying moment, it felt like his feet weren't even touching the floor.

"Wonderful thing, lower gravity," Domo said. "It gives you a high. Almost like a drug." The way he said drug was a little strange. The boy logged that in the back of his mind for further consideration and took in the room. There wasn't much. A bed, built directly into the wall. To his right was a low gray chair with a wide, circular seat and curving back. On the other side were a small dresser and a door that opened inward to a tiny bathroom. The boy sat cross legged in the chair so he could keep both well within his vision. Hana had pulled a laptop out of the cloth bag and had plugged one of the wires into it.

"She's changing the climate controls of the room," Domo explained. "The gravity and temperature will increase a few degrees every day so you can get accustomed to it. I suggest that you stay in here until you areused to it so Mitsuyo doesn't have a reason to ship you back." The boy blinked, a little taken aback. So…he wasn't working for Mitsuyo… Or so he claimed. But that left an even bigger question.  
"Why are you helping me?" the boy asked, giving Domo a hard look. The man had grown considerably paler and his head began to twitch slightly. He grinned at the boy, but it seemed more forced.

"What are you doing here?" Domo countered, his expression darkening abruptly. "Is it because you have nowhere else to go? Is it because J picked you randomly off the street and promised you a better life? If that's the case then get the hell out. If you don't, I promise you you'll regret it."

"I'm here because it's the only way I can pilot Wing. It's mine and I'm going to fight for the colonies."

Domo laughed.

"So you want to be a little hero, huh? I don't know whether that's noble or stupid. In either case, it's a hopeless cause. You can't beat Tatsu and there is no way Mitsuyo is going to train you." Domo leaned forward, staring into the boy's eyes and grinning. "Looks like you'll just have to trust me to do it."

"Will you?"

"Maybe. If you can prove you're worth my effort."  
"Toki desu," Hana said, coming up and laying a hand on the man's shoulder. It's time. He somehow knew that's what she was saying. But time for what? Domo stood and headed for the door, but paused before going out.

"Goodnight, little hero," he said, without turning around. "May you sleep light and wake up unchanged." Then he left. The boy stared at the closed door. What did that mean? There was something going on here. So far, nearly everyone he'd met had warned him not to stay. Even Hana was tense in his presence. Did it have something to do with Mitsuyo? Tatsu had seemed nervous around him-- But that could be from anything and Domo hadn't said the doctor's name with any kind of emotion at all. But Mitsuyo seemed to be strictly in control of this satellite.

The boy closed his eyes and organized his thoughts. Even though there was no proof, Mitsuyo was the prime suspect. Domo had a needle mark on his arm that was either recent or used frequently. The way he said drug was the same way Odin used to say target in the later years. Bitter, sarcastic and full of self-loathing. So, perhaps Domo was addicted to a drug- Judging from the man's last comment, it wouldn't be hard to assume that the drug had been forced on him at night. It was all just guess work of course, but it was always better to overestimate the danger…especially in a strange place.

At present, the boy was fairly sure he wouldn't be targeted for a secret injection. Everyone here seemed to think he was just a waste of time. That would change though, so he would have to learn to sleep lightly while he had the chance. The boy added that to his mental list, then stood and stretched his tired muscles. It had been a long day. Tomorrow he would try to think of a way to impress Domo. Not that he trusted the man, but right now he had no other choice.

This decided, he gave his tiny room a quick but thorough look-over, braved the crushing gravity to change the security lock on his door, then went to bed and slept soundly for the last time.

---

Knote: Annnd the story goes ooooon. It will end! Soon! Well…not really really soon…but it will end. Any questions about why he can sorta kinda but not really understand Japanese? Also...someone mentioned Duo's real episode Zero. Where can I find that?

Disclaimer: Considering I have only about twenty bucks to my name right now…

Night (gimme back my stupid tilde darnit!) Mare


	19. First Lessons

"So there was an energy spike, and I mean a huge energy spike, like what you get from a carrier shuttle."

"Where did it come from?" said the man, leaning closer to his companion and nearly putting an elbow in his plate of scrambled eggs.

"It was gone before I could pinpoint the exact location, but it seemed to be coming from L-2." The woman shook her head and gave the bit of sausage she held in her chopsticks a look of disgust before popping it in her mouth with a grimace. The man laughed and leaned back.

"Well considering it came from L-2, it was probably a garbage scow."

"Probably," the woman said with a laugh. Then she looked down at her plate and raised her eyebrows. "This food tastes like it came from L-2."

"That's because Michiko is mad at Kazuki."

"Still? I heard…"

The boy tuned out their conversation as it switched to something less interesting. They'd been speaking Japanese, but he'd understood them more or less perfectly. He'd been here for a little over three months and had found the more he listened to the language, the more a part of his mind seemed to understand it. The small English/Japanese dictionary he'd found propping up one of the tables in the mess hall had helped too.

With a small sigh he stirred the rubbery scrambled eggs around on his plate and shifted his gaze to the clock on the other side of the room. It was nearly seven o'clock. He took a bite of eggs and glanced idly down at the book by his elbow. _Applying Aerophysics in a Zero Gravity Environment_. It was an interesting read. Unfortunately it was also his only read and he had practically memorized it all ready.

The doors to the mess hall opened, drawing the boy's attention long enough to register the two unknown shuttle pilots. This satellite was in a stream of constant traffic. Since it was located roughly in the middle of the cluster, many used as a pit stop for those who wanted to take a short cut, mostly freight travel. This satellite was also a training facility for pilots of mobile suits used in demolition and construction work. Mostly, the satellite was full of a small army of scientists, researching everything from astronomy to microchemistry. The near constant rush of the place made it easy to blend into the background.

Sighing again, the boy opened the book and flipped through it without really reading. He'd gotten this two weeks after his arrival. He'd been down in one of the hangars, watching a demolition crew work on their mobile suits. His staring must have annoyed them, because one of them had thrown this book at his head and told him to get lost. The boy had caught the book easily and, since the title had interested him, decided to take it. He was glad he had. There were no other books and even after having lived here for three months, he still hadn't figured out the access codes for the terminals.

A glance up told him it was seven-ten. Tatsu would be in the gym by now. Tucking the book under his arm, the boy headed for the door, dumping his tray on the way out. The main gym was ten doors down. The other two were mainly weight rooms that the demolition pilots used. The satellite had a pretty simple layout actually. It had four levels. The uppermost being his room and those of the scientists. Then this level. Below were the living quarters for the pilots, as well as the hangars. There was a special security code needed for the fourth level. The boy suspected that was where the labs were and so hadn't bothered to try. He had other things to be concerned with.

Tatsu was right where he was expected to be. Standing on the track and stretching his long legs in preparation for a run. The teenager looked up, tensing slightly, but relaxed and scowled when he saw who it was.

"What are you doing here?" Tatsu grumbled. The boy said nothing, took a metal folding chair from a stack near the far wall and dragged it over to the pull up bar. "Little brat's following me," Tatsu muttered in Japanese. Unless he was talking directly to the boy, Tatsu always spoke in that language. In fact, brat was one of the first words the boy had memorized.

Ignoring Tatsu as usual, the boy unfolded the chair underneath the bar, set the hard back book on it, then stepped on chair and book and reached up on his tiptoes to grip the pull up bar. Being short was such a pain.

He began his exercise at almost the same time Tatsu began his circuit. Not only were pull ups a good way to strengthen his upper body, but it was a chance to watch Tatsu inconspicuously. By observing the surly teenager, he could compare their abilities and improve himself. After about two minutes, the door slid open again revealing Domo. The man surveyed the room, quirking a small smile in the boy's direction before stepping in. Tatsu slowed as he came near the man and stopped well away from him. The boy focused his full attention on them. He'd never seen the two together and was curious to see how they'd react.

"Good morning, Domo-sempai," Tatsu said respectfully. Domo waved absently in response and looked at the younger man critically.

"You don't seem to be working too hard. Haven't even broken a sweat."

"I just started, Domo-sempai." Tatsu took a short step back as the other man came forward. But Domo just shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned in a bizarre way.

"I was wondering if you wanted to race."

Tatsu gave a short laugh.

"Race?" spat the teenager. "Since when have you ever wanted to race?"

"Since now," Domo said, seemingly unaffected by the other's outburst.

"I don't think so."

"Afraid I'll beat you?" Domo glanced casually up at the ceiling. "Mitsuyo could be watching right now, you know. I wonder what he'll think when you're afraid to lose to a prototype."

Tatsu muttered a curse, but nodded his assent. The boy paused, resting his chin on the bar as the two bent at the start line. After a countdown, they were off. Tatsu was fast, but Domo kept up with him easily. Then Domo began to slip back. By the look on his face, it was a calculated move. Tatsu didn't seem to notice.

Suddenly the man whipped something out of his pocket and slammed it into the back of Tatsu's neck. The teenager stumbled, and fell. It would have been a hard fall for the boy, but Tatsu rolled smoothly to his feet and turned to face his attacker. Domo was grinning and holding the thing loosely in his twitching fingers. The boy couldn't tell exactly what it was from this distance, but it looked like a hypodermic needle.

"Ooh, too bad," the man said, holding the needle up to the light. "Looks like you've been pumped with enough chemicals to sedate a horse. Tell me- How do you feel?"

"D-damnit!" Tatsu snapped, clapping a hand to the back of his neck. "That better have not been filled with anything or I'm telling Mitsuyo-sensei."

"If I'd wanted you dead, Tatsu, you wouldn't have even gotten off the floor," Domo said, casually flipping the needle through his fingers. "The point is you should have seen it coming."

"You forget, Domo-sempai," Tatsu said with a twisted grin of his own. "You're the test dummy, not me."  
"You know, I love slow acting poisons," Domo said cheerfully. "By the time you realize something's wrong…" He trailed off and shrugged lightly. Tatsu scowled, turning on his heel and stalking out of the gym. Domo watched him go, then turned to look at the boy. The boy casually dropped to the ground, so as not to be vulnerable.

"Did you enjoy the show, little hero?" he asked in English.

"Why did you do that?" the boy responded, tensing slightly as Domo came closer.

"Because Tatsu baiting is fun," the man said, taking a clear plastic cap from his pocket and trying to put it over the needle with a trembling hand. The boy watched him and realized that, even if there had been something in the vial, the needle didn't have a depressor to push the fluid in. Why had he done it then? The boy narrowed his eyes, trying to figure the man out. Had he just done it to be vindictive? For some reason, the boy couldn't entirely believe that. Domo wandered past him and picked up the book on the metal chair, whistling softly as he turned it over and looked at the title.

"Well this looks entertaining. Not many pictures for someone your age." He held it out to the boy, eyebrows raised. "Do you read it or just use it to stand on?" The boy hesitated a moment, noting that Domo still held the uncapped needle in his other hand.

"It's not going to bite," Domo said, offering the book again. The boy took it. Domo made a quick movement, swooping low but angling the needle up so it would hit the boy's stomach. The boy smacked the book down onto Domo's wrist, then turned it and cracked it hard across the man's face, making him stumble back. The needle hit the ground and shattered. The boy dimly registered the tiny streaks of pain as stray glass brushed across his ankle, but kept his full attention on Domo. The man was clutching his jaw and giving the boy a wide-eyed look. Then he laughed.

"You're smarter then Tatsu is." He grinned and folded his arms. "Or maybe you're just lucky."

The boy said nothing and examined his ankle, keeping Domo in the corner of his eye. Finding nothing more then a few superficial scratches, he turned his full gaze back on the man.

"So I suppose you still want to pilot that giant robot," Domo said. The boy nodded shortly. The man shook his head. "I still think it's a waste of time… But Hana-chan suggested that I give you a chance."

"How can I trust you?"

"You can't. I might just train you wrong. But since you don't have any other options, it looks like you'll just have to accept it." Domo shoved his hands in his pockets. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

The boy stared at him, more to keep an eye on him as he turned his thoughts inward. Until he knew Domo's true motives, it was impossible to trust him. Even then…it was hard to be sure. But what other choice did he have? The boy clenched his hands tightly around the book. Ugh. He was doing it _again. _He kept trying to rely on adults to teach him things. No wonder everyone still treated him like a child. If he couldn't figure out things for himself, then it might as well be Tatsu piloting Wing.

"Well, kid, shall we get started?" Domo asked.

"I don't need you," the boy said, then turned and walked for the door. Laughing softly, the man fell into step beside him.

"Self-confident, aren't you? You're the strangest kid I've ever known."

The boy decided not to react to that statement. They walked in silence to the lift. Once the doors closed, Domo leaned back against the wall, folded his arms and gave the boy a steady look. The boy didn't return it, instead fixing his gaze on the door. The old elevator started up with a groan.

"I wouldn't have helped you, you know," Domo said with a grim smile. "I would have made sure you failed at everything."

"Hn," the boy said. He truly hadn't known one way or the other. But now that he had made his choice, it didn't really matter.

"You don't belong here." He looked away, suddenly seeming pensive and tired. "I don't know why Hana-chan wants to help you stay. You're too young."

"Age doesn't matter," the boy said, fixing a glare on him. Domo shook his head.

"You're young enough that you don't matter yet. Mitsuyo doesn't care much about the prepubescent crowd. There's still time for you to get out." The bitter smile was back. "You're cute enough that _someone _will take you in."

"I don't _want _to be taken in," said the boy, shifting his gaze to the doors. The elevator was slowing as it reached the designated level.

"Okay, but once you hit that age, you'll be pumped full of so many drugs you won't be able to walk straight."

"No I won't." The lift finally settled and the doors slid open. The boy started to leave, but Domo's voice stopped him.

"How can you be so sure?"

Placing a hand on the elevator doors to keep them open, the boy turned to face Domo fully.

"I fully intend to get Wing without violence. But if Mitsuyo gets in my way, I will kill him." Domo stared at him a moment before laughing. Then he shook his head, either doubting the boy's words or the boy's nerve. Instead of elaborating, the man changed the topic.

"Do me a favor and tell Hana-chan that I'll be indisposed for a while." Domo sauntered across the small space and began tapping at the buttons beside the door. "It's time for this rat to go back to the maze."

The boy nodded in acknowledgement and stepped back into the corridor. He waited until the doors had fully closed before walking away. Despite Domo's unpredictability and penchant for lying, the boy didn't doubt his words. But judging by what he'd been hearing, the colonies wouldn't wait five years before choosing a pilot for Wing. He would have it by the time he was ten, if not sooner. So the biggest threat right now was Domo. So far, the man hadn't really done anything to get in his way. At present, the boy wasn't sure what to do once the man actively went against him. Killing Domo might make the boy seem unstable.

The boy mentally filed the thought for further reference as he came up to Hana's door. At least, he was fairly sure it was hers. This was where he had first met her. He hesitated before pressing the buzzer next to her door. He'd been very careful not to let anyone know how well he understood Japanese. Odin used to say that sometimes it was better to act stupid then let everyone know your abilities. If he let Hana know that he spoke the language then she would probably tell Domo. He lowered his hand from the buzzer. Maybe he should just… No… wait… The boy narrowed his eyes as the realization dawned on him. Domo all ready _knew. _Otherwise he wouldn't have asked him to tell her.

The boy mentally reviewed the few encounters he'd had with the man, trying to pinpoint what he'd said or done that had let that information slip. He'd always been so careful to speak English around him. How could Domo possibly have found out? The boy couldn't—

"Are you enjoying warming my doorstep?" said an amused female voice from directly behind him. The boy whirled in place, hand halfway to his weapon before he managed to stop himself. Hana stood, one hand on her hip, and smiled down at him. Her expression was sincere, but slightly condescending. The boy glowered at the floor. He deserved to be looked down on. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't even sensed her coming. Urgh. He was _not _a little kid! He shouldn't be messing up like this.

"Did you want to have a visit?" she asked, reaching out like she was going to touch him, then seeming to think better of it and letting her hand drop back to her side. The boy shook his head and looked up into her face.

"Domo wanted me to tell you that he'd be gone for a while."

Hana didn't seem surprised at either his message or his use of Japanese. Instead her shoulders slumped and she nodded resignedly.

"It is that time…" she murmured, more to herself then him. Stepping past him, she tapped her access code into the security panel and gestured him in as the doors opened. He let her enter first before following. Her room was bigger then his. About the only thing the two rooms had in common was bed built into the wall. Hana also had a small purple couch covered in papers that spilled over onto the coffee table in front of it. On the other side of the room, vials filled with strange liquids and assorted needles spread across a row of built in shelves, looking like a mad scientist's first aid kit. The mess irritated him a little and his fingers twitched to organize it. Hana had moved into an adjoining room that he hadn't seen before. He went to stand in the doorway, not wanting to invade the privacy of the small dark room. The only light came from the screen of the laptop that sat on a small desk.

The desktop image seemed to be a furry brown rectangle with sharp teeth and beady black eyes. Before he could even hazard a guess, the screen abruptly shifted to a blue field with white text of what he assumed was code. Howell had taught him a little bit of programming, but not enough to do anything. It would be interesting to learn, but he wasn't sure if he trusted Hana enough to let her teach him.

He watched what she typed carefully and tried to memorize it, even though he didn't understand. After a moment or two, the screen shifted into what looked like a camera feed. Soft pongs sounded in the darkness and two other screens on either side of her erupted into life, each showing a different hallway. A few more typed instructions and the cameras shifted views, centering on a small room with hospital bed lying in a field of equipment.

After a moment, Domo came into view, followed by an older scientist the boy only vaguely recognized. Domo looked straight up at the camera for a moment and barely flicked his hand in what could be read as a wave before letting himself be strapped to the table.

"We're going to try some new compounds today," said the scientist, picking up a needle and examining its contents in the light. "This one will either increase your stamina or give you agonizing stomach cramps for a week. Might be both."

"Just shut up," Domo snapped. The scientist lowered the needle and looked at the man.

"Aren't we-" But then Hana cut the transmission off. In the ensuing silence, the boy wondered how Domo had managed to hack into the satellites video feed--and for that matter, why. The boy could understand if he was trying to do some spying in order to avoid playing lab specimen, but since he did it anyway, the boy couldn't see the point. It didn't take the boy long to figure out an answer.

"Domo likes to play games, doesn't he?" he said, not really expecting and answer. Hana sighed heavily and there was a muffled squeak as the chair slid back.

"Yes he does."

"But it's so stupid."

"Yes it is," Hana said as the boy stepped back to allow her out of the room.

"Why does he stay here?" the boy asked, absently leaning back against the door frame and folding his arms. "He seems to know how to re-create the drugs he's addicted to." He glanced briefly at the vials that littered the shelves. "He claims to be a talented hacker…or is that all you?"

Hana smiled faintly and gestured toward the door.

"Would you walk with me?"

The boy nodded and followed her into the corridor. They walked for a while in silence, but the boy was patient enough to wait. It wasn't as if there was anything better to do at the moment.

"When Domo-sempai was a child, the Alliance attacked his colony. Barely anyone survived and those that did had nothing left."

"That's when he met Mitsuyo," the boy said, catching on. Hana nodded, wrapping thin arms around herself as if she were cold.

"Tatsu too, his home was leveled in a single night. Father took them in out of kindness. Really, he did. But then something changed. Suddenly he wanted to create the perfect soldier and it didn't matter what he had to do."

The truth of her parentage only mildly surprised him. The fact that the scientist used his own daughter as a lab rat didn't amaze him at all. From all that he'd seen and heard over the past few months, he knew that the doctor was a desperate man. Desperate to prove himself to his superiors. The rumors in the mess hall were that more then anything, he wanted to prove he could make something more spectacular and useful then J's Gundam. Although he was sure both scientists took advantage of people to attain their goals, it was Mitsuyo's method that really annoyed him. Men like him made it even tougher to survive in an all ready hard world. And there were men like him everywhere. But if the colonies were at peace, then there wouldn't be any more children for men like Mitsuyo to exploit. There would be no more Domos or Tatsus or Hanas and no more like himself. The girl had stopped by a room numbered 102 and reached up to the security panel.

"Is it because he's your father that you want to stay?" the boy asked. Hana's fingers paused and she looked down at him, seeming startled he'd asked.

"Haven't you listened? I would dearly love to go, even though I do love my father. If it's just for Tatsu's and Domo-sempai's sake."

"Then why do you stay? If Domo's strong enough to play silly little games, he's strong enough to leave."

"We have nothing outside of this place." She looked away and sighed heavily. "We've all been trained since we were very young; there is nothing else we can do. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

The boy shrugged. Maybe she was right. Maybe he couldn't understand. He'd never had anything to begin with, so how could he understand the fear of nothing? It didn't matter. Once he got Wing, he would be able to set them free—somehow. But right now there were other things to be concerned with. The doors slid open revealing a large room. He knew it was a bedroom only by the bedposts he could see through a half open door on the other side. What really drew his eyes was the tall bookshelf that dominated the north wall of the room. The more he saw though, the less enthusiastic he became. Four solid shelves seemed to consist of nothing but romance novels. Below that were various fantasy books with bizarre cover art.

"Bottom shelf," Hana said with a small laugh in her voice. He looked and saw whole range of books on computer programming and a slim volume of basic calculus.

"Borrow whatever you like," she said before he could ask. "The Enchanted Love series is really good." He had to look up at her before he realized she was joking. He offered her a small smile, then plucked out the calculus book and the first computer programming book, even though he was tempted to take it all.

"Leave those here for now," she said, waving vaguely to an overstuffed green chair. "There's something I want to show you."

He obeyed and followed her into an adjoining room that consisted of nothing more then a floor of white mats and a wide wooden closet. Crossing the room, she opened the closet to reveal a rack of white clothing and a few thin swords hanging on the door. She took off two of the weapons and came back, offering him one before she got too close.

"This is called a foil. It's used in an ancient earth sport known as fencing. Would you like to learn?"

The boy tested the weight of the sword in his hand while he considered his answer. Was fencing really an efficient use of his time? What could he learn from it? Balance. Coordination. A fairly good upper body workout he supposed. He'd never even heard of this sport before. But there was another question to consider.

"Why do you want to teach me?" he asked, looking up at her. "Domo said that he would teach me all the wrong things if I'd accepted his help." Hana smiled ruefully.

"I'm sure he said that. And I'm sure he would, if only to test your intelligence. But I want to help you so you won't fall victim to my father. So maybe one day you'll be strong enough to escape and return to whatever colony you call home."

"But not so I can get Wing."  
The small condescending smile was back. "You're so determined," she said. "But you'll never beat Tatsu." The boy didn't rise to the challenge. He was beginning to realize that no matter what he did, as long as he looked young, people would look down on him…and really, it didn't matter. As long as they didn't try to prevent him from reaching his goals, they could talk to him like he was six, which they very nearly did anyway.

"I'll let you teach me then," he said, mimicking her pose. Hand on hip, foil pointed loosely on the ground. No…the grip was wrong. He shifted his hand around so that it matched hers. She smiled at him.

"I can tell you'll be good. But I won't teach you just yet. You must prove yourself first."

The boy sighed, and it was Domo all over again. Hana tapped his shoulder lightly.

"Don't look so down. It's not that hard. The door to these quarters has a rotating security lock on it. Once you crack it and can let yourself in, I'll teach you. But you're so smart I bet it won't even take you three months."

"Two weeks," said the boy, handing the foil back to her and going to the other room to gather his books.

"Two weeks?" she repeated with a laugh. "Very well, but if you don't you'll have to wait four months until I teach you."

The boy nodded, accepting the terms and strode out of the room, pausing a moment to glance at the security panel. It looked just like every other one. It shouldn't take him more then two weeks. All he had to do was to find what a rotating security lock entailed and then he would be well on his way.

This decided, he went back to the lift and made his way down to the mess hall. He liked studying in the mess hall. Not only was it harder for Domo or Hana to spy on them there, there was interesting information flying all over the place. As he came in, he found it a bit emptier then usual as the late breakfast crowd slowly faded into the early lunch crowd. Picking his customary table in the corner, he sat and began exploring the calculus book.

He was lost in the fascinating world of numbers for so long that by the time his stomach rumbled, the mumble of a small crowd had turned into a dull roar of lunch in full throttle. The tantalizing smell of grilled cheese sandwiches filled his nostrils and further distracted his wandering stomach. He didn't _have _to let himself be distracted of course, but since there was still plenty of time to study… Sliding from his chair, the boy got three sandwiches from the indulgent cafeteria ladies, a large bowl of tomato soup and a frosty glass of orange juice. As he sat down, he noticed three demolition pilots had taken up the table just across from him. They seemed to be having a guarded conversation and the boy immediately concentrated on what they were saying but kept his eyes on his food.

"-guess it happened so close to L-2's border that they picked it up as an energy spike here," said one.

"Right," said the other. "But what really happened? I've been hearing all sorts of rumors. They say that the Alliance attacked unprovoked. If it's true I'm getting out of this business fast…money be damned."  
"It was on L-2," said the third pilot with a sneer. "You know they're all just a bunch of thieves and criminals. Probably deserved it."

"Yes, but the Alliance has attacked some of the outlying colonies on L-1," retorted the second. "And I don't know about you, but their excuses have always seemed a little too shoddy to me."

"Well, the truth as I know it," said the first. "Is that the Alliance was conducting a routine investigation and decided to take a small cut of the profits for 'guarding' the demolition team."

"From who? Aliens?" the second pilot said with a snort.

"Heh, right. But anyway, they say that one of the pilots just snapped and attacked them."

"Attacked in a demolition unit?!" the second pilot fairly shouted. The mess hall quieted as everyone turned toward the sound of the outburst. Going red to his large ears, the pilot waved them off and hunched over his food.

"That's suicide," muttered the third when the room had gone back to its own business.

"Well they say it was a newer pilot that did it. They say it was only his first day on the job."

"First day jitters," said the third with a wise nod. The boy took a sip of his orange juice. It seemed a bit too extreme to be first day jitters. More then likely it was planned, either by that singular pilot or by the group. He hoped the attack had hurt the Alliance troops; otherwise the suicide would have been wasted.

"You know the most amazing part," said the first. "They _say_ that the newer pilot was the only one who survived."

"How?" asked the second. "Whoever it was couldn't have been _that _good."

"Apparently the rest of the unit protected him when the Alliance retaliated."

"Ah, well they're just from L-2, so who'll miss 'em?" said the third pilot. "Probably all disease ridden anyway."

"Well let's hope they didn't rub off on their mobile suits," said the first with a grin. "They're sending all the salvageable parts here."

"Why here?" asked the second.

"It's common sense. Can't leave them on L-2, can they? That'd give the Alliance more raw materials to mess with. The Bartons wouldn't take it, the Winners certainly aren't going to take it with all their talk of pacifism and staying out of the way."  
"And if they take it to L-5 they'd be blasted out of the sky before they even opened their mouths," said the third pilot.

"Anyway, it should be arriving next Wednesday and the captain says we're in charge of it."

"What?!" aid the second.  
"You imbecile!" snapped the third. "Cut to the point next time!"

"Well it wouldn't have mattered!" said the first one, cringing. "It's not like we can talk him out of it! We're still on charge for short-circuiting the captain's suit."

"We? I seem to remember a certain big eared loon making most of the mess," grumbled the third. The pilots then fell to arguing and the boy tuned them out. It might be interesting to see what they bought in. Until then, though, he had to focus on breaking the security code for Hana's door. Pushing the calculus book to the side, he picked up the computer book which seemed to be about networking. Although he wasn't sure how networking would help, it couldn't hurt to learn about it.

* * *

Author's Note: And the plot, as they say, thickens. -gryn- Sorry about the absolute stupidness of the chapter title. I couldn't think of one better. -sweatdrops-

Disclaimer: I've been listening to too much Q101 to own anything. (Let's get it starrteeed. HA!)

Night (and the tilde keeps runnin' runnin') Mare


	20. A Brightening Hope

The mobile suit sprawled in the hangar. Everything from the waist down was nothing but charred, twisted bits of metal. Even the torso had long lasered holes tearing through it. Something glass like had shattered in the top of the head and now there was just a ragged hole with a few shards clinging to it like teeth. Bits and pieces of other suits rose around it like dismembered limbs. The boy stared at it from the shadows on the other side of the room, arm resting on his drawn up knee.

The pilots had just left it here. They hadn't even bothered putting a security lock on the door. It could be that they were going to try to sell the parts under the table or perhaps they were just putting it off until later. Whatever the case, their stupidity at leaving it unguarded had lost them the entire thing. A few mouse clicks and a handful of entered commands told anyone with a terminal that all the parts had been jettisoned into space as refuse. Even if the pilots had come to look for it, they would have a hard time getting past the rotating security code he'd programmed into the door.

With a frustrated sigh, the boy glanced down at the scraps of paper around his feet. The fact was that although it was easy to create a rotating security lock, it was nearly impossible to crack. It had been a week now and still he couldn't figure out the numbers to Hana's room. He'd even spent the whole day there once, tapping in numbers until his fingers were sore. But with an eleven digit number and ten numbers to choose from, the combinations were practically endless. He'd watched her go in and out of that room since the very first day, keeping careful track of the numbers she entered. There was a pattern. He _knew _there had to be…but _why _couldn't he see it?

The papers he'd been working on blurred and slid out of focus. Closing his eyes, the boy titled his head back and lightly banged it into the metal wall he rested against. This was impossible. He never should have said he could do it in two weeks. But he couldn't back down from a boast like that. If he _said _he could do something he _had _to do it or die trying. Reputation was everything, as Odin used to say. Back out on your word just once and that put a stain on you that would never come off.

Aggravation sent the boy lurching to his feet. Absently he began stretching his legs like he would do before a run. He wanted to run. Run, do pull ups, lift some weights…_anything _that was active and productive. For too long he'd been sitting around struggling with a problem that had no discernable answer. Maybe he was trying to hard. Maybe all he had to do was concentrate on something else for a while.

The wreckage of the mobile suit once again caught his attention. He came to its blackened feet and craned his neck to stare up at the face plate. He'd intended to try and pull it apart to see what the inside looked like a try to get a feel of how the thing was put together. Unfortunately that was about all he could do. There was no way to test its exact function unless he could get the thing to work. On that thought, he wondered if the cockpit was similar to a leo's.

The hatch proved to be difficult to open, but the boy enjoyed the exercise. After a while he was able to pry it open enough to slither inside. The cockpit was far more primitive then a leo's as far as he could tell. There were quite a few more buttons for one thing and the tiny view window cut off pretty much anything except what was right ahead. Under the view window was a small radar screen. He tapped it thoughtfully with a fingernail. It seemed a bit much. The two vid screens that popped out of the arms of the seat would show exactly where the hands of the demolition unit were going.

On the other hand, he was hardly an expert in mobile suit technology yet. Maybe it was there for a reason he hadn't learned about. Putting the thought to the back of his mind, the boy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath he reached out, gripping the arm controllers and set his feet on the pedals. He tried to remember how it felt to be in a live machine… The seat vibrating gently under him, the low drone of energy as it pumped through the wires that made up the veins of the mobile suit.

The boy opened his eyes as the daydream faded. Might as well take apart the interior and see how everything was connected. Slipping out of the small opening, he dropped to the ground and nearly in Domo's lap.

The boy stumbled in surprise, nearly falling. His hand moved to his tank top automatically, but there was nothing there. He'd left the gun on the floor. Domo smirked at him. The man was pale and drawn, having been reduced to a wheelchair since the boy had seen him last. But the boy wasn't stupid enough to turn his back on him…not even to get his gun. Since Domo was here, it was probably all ready gone.  
"Looking for this?" said Domo, pulling the gun out from behind his back, and showing it to him. The boy said nothing, feeling completely at a loss for a moment. Wrestling the gun from Domo's hands would be stupid and fatal…and there was nothing around close enough to be used as a weapon.

"How did you get in here?" the boy asked, partly to cover his nervousness and partly because he was curious. Not that he expected Domo answer. The man said nothing for a moment, examining the gun in his hand.

"A little boy with a toy like this," Domo said distantly. "Do you even know how to use it, I wonder?"  
"Would you like me to show you?" the boy asked. Domo laughed.

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm sure you can aim and I won't be much of a moving target." Domo leveled the gun at him, smirk widening. "You can try to come and get it, if you like."

The boy remained still. Attacking would be dangerous and he didn't know how well Domo could shoot. Maybe not at all… But there was so much about Domo he didn't know and he didn't want to risk it.

"You're intelligent, I'll give you that." Domo's eyes narrowed. "Which begs the question of why you're still here? Maybe you really _don't _understand."  
"I'm not afraid," the boy said, glaring at him. "If Mitsuyo tries anything I'll--" Suddenly Domo sprung from the chair and before the boy could react, long cold fingers were gripping his chin, forcing it up and he could feel the gun jamming into his belly. Domo's eyes were narrow and his face twisted in rage. The boy stared at him, surprised for a moment at the speed of his attack.

"Yes, yes. You'll _kill _him. You stupid little shit."

The boy tensed to jerk away, but the gun shifted against his stomach, warning him to keep still.

"I don't know what the hell you were before you came here. What gave you this cocky attitude and frankly, I don't care. But whoever taught you didn't do a good job."  
The boy narrowed his eyes, clenching his hands into fists, anger tightening his insides. The boy snapped out his hand, pushing the gun away as he lunged forward. Domo moved with liquid speed, snatching his hand and shoving the gun up against the boy's chin.

"I could kill you right now. One touch of my finger and your brains will be splattered all over the floor. I might actually be doing you a favor."

The boy clenched his teeth. If Domo thought to scare him, it wasn't working. It had been a long time since he was afraid of death. He was more angry then anything wondering how the hell this had happened.

"You can stay here. I don't care. Train until your muscles burst. Let Hana-chan teach you to fence because lord knows she needs the company. I won't stop you." The gun was suddenly jerked away, but the back of Domo's hand replaced it, smacking him hard across the face. The boy glared up at him from the floor, cheek aching, tasting blood in his mouth. The gun was pointed at him once more, keeping him there.

"But know this," the man continued, face still twisted in anger. "If you let your guard down one more time I _will _kill you. You're not safe _anywhere. _Not here. Not even when you sleep. Just because you can tap in a few codes doesn't make you invulnerable. This is not your playground. This is _mine, _this is _Mitsuyo's_. You know absolutely shit about it." With that he lifted the gun away and pulled out clip with a trained hand. Pocketing the ammunition, he hurled the empty gun away and stalked from the room.

The boy sat where he was a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. It was true. He had been stupid. Unforgivably stupid. Suddenly he saw everything, like the last piece of the puzzle being shifted into place. This was not his old world. This was not a place where stupid adults practically threw themselves in the crosshairs. Here, everyone was his equal--no not equal…they were _better _then him. For now.

The boy stood, crossing to get his gun, then pulled a second clip from his tank top and snapped it into place. Wasn't his playground, huh? Well he would have to make it his playground, wouldn't he? The first thing he had to do, though, was figure out how Domo had gotten past the security lock in the first place- There were quite a few ways to find out. The boy mentally ran down the list of possibilities until he found on that seemed the most efficient. Once decided, he flicked the gun's safety on, jammed it into the waistband of his shorts and leaned against the wall to think.

* * *

Domo made it safely around the corner before his legs gave out. He fell, knees banging painfully against the metal floor. He pressed a hand to his chest as his lungs fought for air. Damn Mitsuyo for making him like this. Still clutching at his chest, Domo lurched unsteadily to his feet. He had to get out of here before that kid came out. He couldn't let the boy see him weak. He moved a few steps, only to stumble to a halt a second later as his legs wobbled dangerously underneath him. After a moment there was the tapping of feet and the soft whisper of wheels. Domo looked up and smiled gratefully as Hana came into view, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. She matched his smile with one of her gentle, pensive ones, letting out nothing of her outer feelings. 

"Let's go, Hana-chan," he said, sitting gratefully in the chair and leaning his head back. Sweat tickled down his face but didn't even feel up to wiping it away. That had taken more out of him then he cared to admit. There was silence as she pushed him down the long corridor toward the lifts. Domo stared straight ahead, ignoring the looks of the few passersby.

That kid. That stupid, arrogant, tough little brat. There hadn't been a trace of fear in those blue eyes. Anger, surprise perhaps, but nothing of fear. And that security lock had been impossible to crack, too. He'd had to get the paneling off the wall and short circuit the lock just to get in the damn door. He could make impossible codes himself, but it took at least a year of studying and experimenting to find out how. But that wasn't what had impressed him. Anyone could figure out how to set a rotating security lock. And the absence of fear could just mean the kid wasn't taking him seriously. But Domo had been watching the kid ever since he set foot onto the station. Every movement the boy made was done with confidence and purpose. Even when he'd been struggling under the station's gravity, he hadn't shied away from the challenge.

_What _was his purpose though? What did he want the Gundam so badly for? It was completely inconceivable to him. The boy obviously had no parents or he wouldn't be here. Mitsuyo only took in orphans. Those with no attachments to anything—even their own colonies. So what could that boy possibly be fighting for? What could he possibly want?

"You're just playing with him, aren't you?" Hana's voice broke him from his thoughts and he looked up at her, smirking.

"Now, Hana-chan, what makes you think that?"

She sighed and shook her head. They arrived at the lift and she moved around him to press the up button. Once they were inside the lift and the doors had closed, Hana leaned against the wall and stared down at him, hands folded in front of her.

"Why do you do that, Domo-sempai? What's the purpose?"  
"Maybe I just want to see how just how strong he really is," Domo said, closing his eyes. If the boy was strong enough… Maybe he wouldn't get caught in Mitsuyo's web. Maybe… Hana sighed heavily.

"It doesn't matter," she said, moving behind the chair as the lift doors opened. "The end will always be the same.

"That's a cheerful sentiment," he said dryly. She was right, though. Only Tatsu was foolish enough to think that acquiring the Gundam would change anything. While certain others were bound and determined the kid would change everything. Domo rolled his eyes, a wave of old bitterness making him clench his jaw slightly. Nothing would change. Nothing would ever change. The kid would be absorbed into this world just like everyone else was.

They arrived at the door to his room and Hana typed in the security code with her usual calm precision. Domo wheeled himself in as the doors slid open, despite how his arms protested. He wasn't that much of an invalid yet. Hana followed after him, moving over to the shelves on the other side of the room and collecting the chemicals for his daily treatment. His hands were starting to twitch uncontrollably at the armrests, as if to remind him of the fact. Domo watched her work, having nothing better to do with his time.

"If you're so convinced that none of it will make a difference," he said after a while. "Then why are you teaching the little bastard how to fence?" Surely she couldn't be _that _bored. And she certainly wasn't hurting for company. If she wasn't with him, she was generally following Tatsu around, making him pant like some lovesick puppy. Domo smirked. Stupid, stupid, Tatsu. Hana's shoulders tensed, but as she turned to face him, her expression remained the same.

"I want to make him trust me," she said, lifting a hypodermic needle into the air and looking at the liquid in the light.

"A student/teacher bond is a wonderful way to start."

Domo snorted. He doubted a few lessons were going to change the kid's outlook. His entire body was beginning to tremble now and he stared at the liquid in the needle, both disgusted and longing.

"Tatsu's not going to be very happy with the competition," he said, smirking at her. Hana gave him a dry look.

"Domo-sempai," she said, squirting out some of the fluid to get rid of the air bubbles. "Whether you like it or not, we are family here. All of us. Together." She came over and slipped up his sleeve, swabbing the patch of skin on his arm with disinfectant before sliding in the needle. Domo lowered his eyes as he felt the familiar drug spread into his system, calming the tremors that had rippled all over his body.

"The sooner you come to accept that truth," she said softly, smoothing the hair away from his sweating forehead with a cool hand. "The sooner you'll be comfortable with your role here." Domo glared at her.

"Lovely role, being a guinea pig."  
"We're trying to save the future here, Domo-sempai. Don't you understand?"

Fortunately, the computer began to beep softly, indicating that someone was trying to contact him. Hana wheeled him into the other room, but he keyed in the commands himself, managing to get it right on the second try. Domo didn't bother to hide his scowl as Mitsuyo's face popped up on the main monitor.

"Father," Hana said respectfully. Mitsuyo grunted in acknowledgement, but kept his gaze on Domo.

"What the hell do you want, old man?" Domo said. The man was off-satellite at the moment, researching something on another part of L-1. Domo hoped he stayed there.

"It's J's damned little pigeon again," Mitsuyo spat. "He wants to know how the brat is doing."

"Can't you handle it yourself?" Domo asked disdainfully. He didn't relish a chat with J's man. Especially with Hana standing right behind him.

"He wants specifics and I don't have a damned idea. It's your fault for stalking the little twit. I'm patching him through." Mitsuyo looked down and began to fiddle with something on his console. Domo cursed inwardly. He had just enough time to school his expression before the monitor flickered and another familiar face appeared. This one, bright, cheery and belonging to a one Alec Howell.

"Howell," Domo said as flatly as he could muster.

"Hello, Koishi-kun!" the blonde fairly sang. Hana made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. Domo shifted slightly in his chair.

"Call me Domo or don't call me anything, Howell," he said irritably. He hated when the man used his first name like that. Especially here… Especially _now. _

"Whatever you say, Koishi-kun." Howell rested his chin on his fist and leaned closer to the screen. "So how is the kodomo? Progressing well? Working hard? Breaking into any munitions rooms?" Alec chuckled. "He's a sneaky little blighter…"

"He's been in the gym almost every day," Domo said with a shrug. "Has some stupid new project."

"Still naïve?" Alec asked. The smile was on his face but there was seriousness in his bright blue eyes that was hard to miss. Domo smirked a little.  
"In more ways then one." Then he shook his head and rested his cheek on his fist. "Though who knows how long that will last." Alec frowned, lifting his head and giving Domo an anxious look.

"Koishi-kun, is Mitsuyo-"

"This isn't about Mitsuyo," Domo said quickly. Damnit. Was Alec _blind_? "What else do you want to know about the kid?"  
"Oh," Howell blinked, seemingly thrown off track. He looked down and there was the sound of shuffling papers. Domo closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold back the laughter that bubbled in his stomach. They were cheat notes. He knew they were. Only _Alec _would have to use cheat notes.

"Project," the scientist murmured to himself. "Naïveté… Health…. Tuna on rye… Tuna on rye? Oh wait…that's the lunch order" Howell giggled softly. Domo snorted a laugh. God help him. The man _giggled. _

"Howell," he said, sounding a bit lighter then he'd intended. The blond looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Koishi-kun?"

"If that kid doesn't keep his guard up, he's going to die." Domo grinned manically. "And I'm going to be the one to kill him."

"Noted." Alec smirked. "But I wouldn't count on it, Koishi-kun." Alec's eyes softened. The scientist wasn't even looking at him any more. Just gazing away at some spot in the room, a silly little smile on his face. Domo's chest tightened in irritation.

"You have that much confidence in him, do you?"  
Alec glanced back at him, a gentle smile lifting his face.

"I do."

There was a moment when they simply stared at one another. To his annoyance, Domo felt his irritation start to fade. Why couldn't he just stay annoyed with the man?

"Anything else, Howell?" Hana asked, coldly. Domo started a little, having almost forgotten she was still in the room. Alec looked up at her, shoulders tensing but the friendly smile still on his face

"Yes, actually." There was rapid tapping as he typed something on a keyboard. "I'm transmitting some files J-sensei wanted you know who to get his mitts on." He spoke the last part while gazing steadily at Domo. Domo nodded, knowing exactly who Alec was talking about. There was a soft bing as the computer received the files. Alec must have gotten some notification on his own terminal, because almost instantly, he shifted in his seat and gave Domo a manic grin.

"Now, Koishi-kun, on a more personal level-"

"No," Hana said. And before Domo could stop her, she had terminated the connection. Domo stared at the desktop screen, clenching his teeth. He hated when she did that. But there was nothing he could say. As far as Hana was concerned, they were a united front against Alec and all of J's minions.

"I'm surprised, Hana-chan," he said, smirking up at her. "I didn't know you had it in you to be that rude. Congratulations."

"I'm only rude because he is." She shook her head and leaned over to grab the mouse. "He has no right to call you by your first name. He doesn't even know you."

Domo didn't comment, but watched as Hana moved the mouse across the screen. His gut clenched when the arrow centered over the files Alec sent. He couldn't very well tell her to stop. That would be suspicious. Domo took a deep breath, disguised as a sigh, to calm himself. The important stuff was probably buried underneath a lot of drivel. Alec wasn't stupid. He'd seen her in the room.

The files turned out to be just one file. A sound clip at that. Now Domo was completely stumped. He'd figured it was sensitive information of some sort…but what kind of sensitive information could be sent with a sound file? Subliminal messaging, perhaps? Somehow, that didn't seem like J-sensei's kind of game. Hana opened the file. At first it was static, then a woman's voice came over the speakers.

"Tragedy struck in X-44769 colony of the L-4 cluster Saturday afternoon when a gathering of college students and young mothers camped out in Rasul Square to protest the Earth Sphere Alliance's continuing assault against the other colonies in the cluster. Three hours into the protest, Alliance troops were deployed under the pretense of crowd control. What happened was a massacre. Out of the sixty-eight people gathered there, thirty of them were shot dead and another twenty were severely wounded. Though Alim Winner, head of Winner Enterprises, couldn't be reached for comment, his publicist says that Mr. Winner regrets the turn of events and wishes things can be resolved more peacefully in the future.

Once again, this is X032CAAC. If you are listening to this broadcast from home; please switch to a higher frequency for your personal safety.

The L-1 cluster was in an uproar earlier this morning when a shuttle load of missiles went missing. The Alliance--"

There Hana cut it off. Domo blinked at the sudden silence and titled his head to look up at her, the movement making him a little dizzy. That would be the drug kicking in. The girl was looking slightly puzzled.

"Why does J-sensei want father to hear that?" she asked, looking down at him. "There doesn't seem to be anything important."

She did have a point. Though the message wasn't for Mitsuyo, he didn't see what the kid would do with it. Still, it wasn't his job to question.

"I'll send it to him later, Hana-chan," he said, words coming out a bit slurred. Another affect of the drug. "Think I'll get some sleep now."

She smiled and kissed him gently on the head.

"Sweet dreams, Domo-sempai. I'll be with Tatsu if you need me."  
He waited until she left before opening the surveillance program and checking the satellite for the boy. He found the kid still in the hangar. Apparently the boy had pulled off a wall panel and was now sitting in a tangle of wires, doing god knew what. Thankfully, all the hangers were equipped with speakers for emergency situations. Domo isolated the boy's hangar and patched the file into the sound system. The boy jerked up at the sudden voice, looking around warily, gun already in his hand. After a moment or two, he seemed to relax. Sitting back down, he set the gun beside him and looked straight into the camera for a heartbeat or two before going back to his project. Domo chuckled. He knew that camera was well hidden, and yet, the boy seemed to have picked it out anyway.

Domo yawned. Now that all the excitement was over, his mind longed to shut down. He watched a bit longer, then was forced to give up. Pushing himself into the bedroom, he crawled onto the mattress and snuggled against the pillow. Alec thought the boy had it in him. Apparently so did J-sensei. A part of Domo wanted to believe. But… He sighed into the pillow. The boy wasn't the first that J-sensei had bought. And wouldn't be the last. Children would just keep getting absorbed into Mitsuyo's web until J-sensei finally gave up, or the Alliance found out and blasted them all to hell.

* * *

Heey! Updateu! W00t! 

Annd I got my first fanart. XD It's from the creator of duoxheero . com (FF.N is stupid. rolls eyes) You should go there and see!

Also, yess, I know, Domo POV…and the next chapter is going to be entirely Domo POV…but then it'll get back to Heero! I promise!

Many, many, many many thanks go out to my Crystal! Because she knows just how much she means to me. See? SEE! I updated! Just for you! Ha! You better do well in school for this, girl! shakus fistu… KANCHOS!

Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam Wing, I would buy me a green dress, but not a real green dress, that's cruel.

Night Mare


	21. Understanding

_Three hundred ninety-seven, _Domo thought as Tatsu exercised. The teenager had been doing sit-ups since Domo had arrived, expression frozen in concentration. Hana knelt by his feet to help anchor him. She seemed to be as focused as he was. _Three hundred ninety-eight. _ He wondered how long Tatsu had been at this. Probably an insane amount of time considering the boy never did_ anything _in moderation. That was one thing he'd always admired about Tatsu, however grudgingly. _Three ninety-nine. _His endurance. Tatsu was so much stronger then Domo could even hope to be. Domo snorted. It was no wonder that Tatsu was Mitsuyo's prize while Domo was stuck with the needles.

"You lost count, didn't you?" Tatsu said. Domo blinked in surprise, then realized Tatsu wasn't talking to him. Hana smiled.

"I did not. It was five hundred and twenty. A new record!"

"Ah, it was nothing." Tatsu said, sweeping his bangs from his face. Hana giggled and Domo rolled his eyes.

"Spare me," he muttered. Tatsu glared at him.

"Don't, Domo-sempai," Hana chided softly, handing Tatsu a towel that had been slung over the back of a chair. "You shouldn't be jealous of Tatsu-kun's strength. You have many talents of your own."

"Oh yeah? Where?" Tatsu said with a snicker, wiping the towel against the back of his neck. Domo leaned back in the wheelchair, smirking.  
"I could think _circles _around you, little boy." He shrugged lightly. "Of course, so can preschoolers, so that's not really saying much."

"Are you saying I'm stupid?" Tatsu snapped.

"Oh, brilliant deduction," Domo said, clapping his hands. "Really. You amaze me."  
"Shut up!" Tatsu said, lurching to his feet and spinning to face him fully. "I may not be as smart as you are, but at least I'm not an experiment!"  
"At least I'm not a puppet," Domo fairly growled. "You actually think getting the Gundam will benefit _you_? Oh, that's rich."

"Stop it, both of you!" Hana said, stepping between them. "We're a _family. _Families shouldn't argue like this!" Domo rolled his eyes at that, but said nothing. Tatsu took on the expression of a whipped dog.

"Sorry, Hana-chan," he murmured. Smiling, Hana turned to face the teenager, putting both hands on his shoulders.

"Does it really matter why you get the Gundam?" she asked in a soothing voice. Tatsu took her hands in his own. A fervent expression came over the young man's face. Domo inwardly groaned, preparing himself for an onslaught of stupidity.

"Of course it matters!" He said softy. "Picture it, Hana-chan. With the Gundam we can go anywhere we want to go. Do anything we want to do."

_Please. _Domo rested his elbow on the arm of his wheelchair and leaned his chin on his fist.

"Right, because no one is going to notice a thirty foot mobile suit armed to the teeth with high powered weapons."

"Well then we'll sell it!" Tatsu snapped, shooting a glare at him from over Hana's shoulder. His expression softened as he looked back at her. "And we can buy a mansion—no—a _castle. _A castle by the sea.With forty rooms and hundreds of servants-"

"And do you plan to sell it whole or piece by piece?" Domo cut in. Hana turned, giving him an exasperated look while Tatsu glowered.

"Piece by piece," the young man snarled. Domo smirked at him

"Oh, I can see it now," said Domo, spreading his hands wide. "Hello, Sir. May I interest you in this ten ton arm made of Gundainium Alloy?"

"Don't you ever shut up!"

"Now why-" Domo started. But Hana cut in quickly, turning back to Tatsu and putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Ignore him, Tatsu-kun," she said gently. "He's just jealous."

Domo rolled his eyes. Right. Jealous of that moron. Tatsu, for his part, hadn't seemed to have heard her. Instead they seemed to have frozen and he was staring at her.

"Hana-chan…" Tatsu murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek. Domo's gut clenched.

"Tatsu-kun…" she said in the same tone, leaning into the touch.

"Would you two like a room?" Domo said dryly. Neither of them seemed to have heard him. Instead, Tatsu cupped the other side of Hana's face and began leaning closer. Scowling, Domo unlocked his wheelchair, pivoted and pushed himself out of the room. Teenage hormones. Ugh. They didn't know more of love then the fact that she was a girl and he was a boy. Even if they had been in love, he would have hated it. Love was a silly, useless emotion. It made people do stupid things—say stupid things. It made missing the other almost unbearable. It made illusions of gentle fingers over skin and whispering laughs in the darkness.

Domo forcefully shook his head of those thoughts and continued to push himself down the hall. He couldn't think that way. It wouldn't do anyone any good. He'd almost reached the lift when his arm cramp, sending tight liquid pain up into his shoulder. Hissing in pain, he grabbed his arm and tried to massage the knot out. Suddenly, Hana was there, pushing his clumsy hand away. Her strong sure fingers worked the tension out and soon it was gone.

"Better?" she said, smiling up at him. He grunting in acknowledgement, flexing his hand as if to test, even though he knew she'd done a good job.

"So what are you and Tatsu going to name the babies?" he asked, giving her a dry look. Hana giggled and gently shoved his arm.

"Oh, you. It was just a kiss!"

"Yeah, so shut up." It was Tatsu who had said that and he turned to see the young man with a blush as red as a warning light. Domo grinned and was about to say something to make the blush spread, but Hana made a small, irritated noise in the back of her throat and moved around behind him, pushing him towards the lift. Domo chuckled and waved the insult away. Hana had had enough for now. Besides, snubbing Tatsu was about as fun as teasing him.

"So, where are we going?" Domo asked as they gathered in the lift and Tatsu flicked a button.

"Today is the brat's last day to guess the code," said Tatsu, leaning back against the metal wall and kicking it with the sole of his shoe. He seemed irritated as he said it, but on that note, Domo couldn't blame him.

"Oh, be nice, Tatsu-kun," Hana said chidingly. "He has a name, I'm sure." That was true. But what kind of a name was… was… Domo squinted slightly, trying to remember. Just what was his name, anyway? He'd never heard it mentioned. Neither by Mitsuyo…or even Alec for that matter. He made a mental note to ask the scientist about it later.

"I don't think he _has _a name," Tatsu grumbled.

"Then we'll give him one," Hana said. "He's going to be part of our family and he'll need a proper name." Somehow Domo doubted that the boy was going to accept any name Hana tacked on to him.

"How about pain in the ass?" said Tatsu. Domo snorted a laugh. Even idiots had their shining moments.

"Tatsu!" Hana said.

"Well he _is_," the teenager insisted. "He's always hanging around. Everywhere I go he's there, staring at me with those beady little eyes."  
"I'm sure he's just curious."

"And I'm sure he's just creepy," Tatsu muttered. The lift had stopped, as did the conversation as the doors opened and a gaggle of scientists came in. One of them had a mustard stain smeared along the pocket and Domo smiled slightly. A memory rose in his mind, leaving a sweet taste in his mouth and a bitter one in his mind. He pushed it away- trying to forget he'd had it, but the sweet taste lingered.

Once again they were out in the corridors. For a while, the only sound was the tires of the wheelchair humming softly against the floor. Tatsu stopped for a moment to talk to a neophysicist about some sort of poker game they were setting up. Hana waited for him patiently, and since she was gripping Domo's chair, so did he.

"Do you think he'll be able to crack the code?" Tatsu asked casually, once they had started off. Domo snorted. Not unless the kid was a mind reader or got extremely lucky. Both possibilities were more then a little frightening.

"He won't," Hana said. "I reset the code every day. It's completely random."

"Hana thinks for some bizarre reason that it will make the kid trust her," Domo said, rolling his eyes.

"No," said Hana, sounding annoyed. "I wanted to show him that he _can't _do everything. To humble him. He needs to lose some of his self-confidence."

_So he'll be trampled like the rest of us, _Domo thought. He didn't know the boy well enough to tell if a locked door would impact his self esteem at all. But something would… And then this place would take the will power from the child.

The boy wasn't outside when they came to the door. Domo reached in his pocket for the code the computer had given him earlier this morning and passed it up to Hana. Then he settled back and stared at the cold metal door. It was inevitable. No matter what Alec said. This place would wear down at the boy. Chipping away his security piece by piece until-

Domo's thought froze in place as he suddenly saw the boy staring at him—from inside the room. How—in—the—hell. There was no way he could have—He couldn't have been _that _lucky? Could he? No. No that was impossible. Wasn't it?

"How the hell did you get in?" Tatsu said, echoing Domo's sentiments exactly. The boy raised an eyebrow at him.

"I went through the door," he said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Don't give me that," Tatsu growled. "That's impossible. Hana-chan changes the code manually every day."  
"Tatsu!" Hana snapped. Domo rolled his eyes. Tatsu was such a dumbass.

"You people keep playing games," said the boy, eyes narrowed into cold slits. "It's so _stupid. _You're just wasting your time and everybody else's."

"Ooh, don't look at it that way," Hana said, coming closer to the boy and reaching out to touch him. He backed away and glared up at her. She frowned slightly, dropping both hands to her sides. Tatsu made an irritated noise in the back of his throat and Domo shook his head. God help the person who didn't want to be touched by Hana.

"I was just trying to help you," she continued.

"By making sure I couldn't get in?" the boy countered.

"To teach you to be resourceful," Hana said, with hardly a beat. Domo's respect for the girl went up a few notches. She was good. She was very good. With that one sentence, the boy's anger faded. Instead, that stolid acceptance returned with a brief nod.

"How did you get in, anyway?" Domo asked. The boy smirked at him, then without another word, turned and went further into the room. Domo narrowed his eyes. That little bastard. Who the hell did he think he was? He gripped the wheels of his chair. He'd get the information out one way or the other.

"Tatsu-kun," Hana said, quickly. "Take Domo-sempai to his room. He looks tired." Domo glared at her, even as he felt Tatsu grip the handles of the wheelchair. Damnit.

"I'm not tired," he fairly spat. She smiled at him gently.  
"Good night, Domo-sempai."

Then Tatsu tugged him away so the rubber of the wheels burned his palms. Domo glowered. He wasn't a _child, _damnit. Tatsu clicked his tongue.

"Does wittle Domo-chan need a nap?" the teenager said in a high pitched voice.

"Shut the hell up," Domo snapped.

"How are you going to make me?"

"I'll sneak into your room one night and inject you full of so many chemicals you won't be able to breathe," Domo said softly.

"You…you wouldn't," Tatsu said, a slight tremor in his voice. Domo smirked.

"Why not? It might be fun."

Not that he would. Not that he ever would subject someone else to what he went through every day. Well—other then Mitsuyo. But it least it shut Tatsu up for a while. Domo sighed. Stupid kid. He'd believe anything, really.

"Don't worry, Domo-sempai," Tatsu said, softly. "Everything will be okay once I get the Gundam. I'll take care of Hana-chan _and _you. We won't have to worry any more." Domo laughed, more annoyed then touched.

"Oh, wonderful sentiment, Tatsu. But what makes you think that Mitsuyo will let you."

"We won't have to worry about Mitsuyo," Tatsu said, the edge back in his voice.

"Right. I forgot. He's just going to let us go, isn't he?"

There was a sharp jerk as Tatsu swerved the chair around. Suddenly the teenagers livid face was two inches from his own, hands gripping the arm rests of the wheelchair until the knuckles showed white. Domo's glared back, even as his fingers twitched nervously in his lap. Damnit, he didn't even have a hypodermic on him to threaten the boy with.

"I'm sick of you," Tatsu snapped. "All you do is criticizing _everything. _I'm doing this for you too, you know! Can't you at least be supportive?"

"You want me to lie to you?" Domo snapped back. "Mitsuyo will never let you go. He'll never let any of us go. We both know that. Why are you so persistently _stupid?_"

"Mitsuyo is going to die," Tatsu hissed in a whisper. "He wanted me to pilot the Gundam, so he's going to be the first to taste what it can do. You have no _idea _how powerful that machine is." The teenager's mouth twisted into a smile, his eyes fixed on some distant point. "Just imagine, Domo-sempai. Once I have the Gundam, everyone will pay for what they've done to us."

"Everyone?" Domo echoed. Tatsu stood back, finally, the smirk growing.

"Everyone," he repeated. "Everyone who's ever hurt us. Ever rejected us. I'll kill them all. Mitsuyo, all the bastards on this satellite." He laughed. "Even the colonies."

Domo, who had slumped a bit during the familiar diatribe, sat up as he heard the last word.  
"The colonies?" He shook his head. "Don't be a fool, Tatsu. Even with a Gundam, you can't destroy them all. Why would you want to anyway?"

"Because they turned their backs on us!" Tatsu was back to shouting again. "They let us be taken! They didn't care."

"We were being _invaded, _Tatsu," Domo said, rolling his eyes. "You're not the only one who suffered."

Growling, Tatsu shoved at the wheelchair, slamming it back into the wall. Domo winced as the impact jarred him. Damnit.

"You're either with me or against me, Domo-sempai," Tatsu said in a colder voice then he'd ever heard from him. "And you'd better not be against me."

Turning on his heel, Tatsu walked away, footfalls ringing in the air. Domo watched him go, then raised a hand to massage his aching head. Tatsu meant what he said. That was the problem with the boy, actually. He always meant what he said. Wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone in the universe to see.

With a heavy sigh, Domo pushed the wheelchair from the wall and continued back to his room. If Tatsu really did get the Gundam, all hell would break loose. It was exactly what J-sensei was so afraid of. Arriving at the door of his room, Domo stood to enter the code, then wheeled over to the computer terminal. He stared at the video feed for a moment as it flicked over random halls and laboratories.

Suddenly he got an idea. Leaning forward, his fingers flew over the keyboard, going back through the surveillance records until he found the instance he was looking for. The entrance to Hana's room—two hours ago to be on the safe side. Nothing. He sped it up a bit, watching the screens carefully, fingers twitching over the pause button as soon as someone passed by. Finally, two hours and thirty minutes into the records, the boy came by. Domo watched with widening eyes as he took something out of his shirt, popped a panel out of the wall right under the electronic lock, and laid on his back, scooting in the small hole. Not a beat later, the door to Hana's room slid open. The boy pulled himself out, rolled to his feet, popped the panel back on and went into the room. Then again, in just a blink of an eye, the door closed again. Domo stared. A few buttons replayed the sequence. Then again. The kid had broken into the room. Domo's gaze flicked to the time stamp. Broken into Hana's room in under a minute. The laugh caught Domo by surprise, bubbling out of his throat before he even knew it was there. That little bastard! That smart clever little bastard.

A few more keys and he gazing inside Hana's room in the present. The boy was already lunging, swinging the foil in practiced movements. His eyes were straight ahead, concentration lining every feature. Domo zoomed in to the boy's face and nearly jumped out of his chair when the boy's eyes seemed to briefly meet his. Good god. This brat was something else. Domo grinned and steepled his fingers watching the boy and feeling better then he had in a long time. The feeling wasn't going to last long. Sometime along the way, the boy would prove that he didn't have what it took after all. But right here, right now, Domo believed in him with all he had. He couldn't think not to.

---

As it happened, though, the boy didn't let him down. Domo made it a habit to keep an eye on him. Each day he would watch the kid work on his little mobile suit, doing god only what with it. Domo finally began to understand why J-sensei had chosen him. Why Alec spoke of the kid with so much passion.

The audio feeds began to become more frequent as well. Almost every other day Domo was sent a new one to patch to the boy and Domo was beginning to understand that as well. With each new broadcast, the atrocities of the Alliance seemed to grow worse and worse. People dying, lives being destroyed. Domo found himself being angered as he listened. Only the barest twitch of emotion ever showed on the boy's face when Domo watched him listen. But soon he began to look closer and see the tightening of the mouth, the slight narrowing of the eyes. J-sensei was shaping him. Grooming him to become the tool that the scientist needed him to be. That they _all _needed him to be.

---

Three months to date, another week, another fencing lesson. Domo watched from his room, can of beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn sitting on the computer desk. He shouldn't drink beer. It tended to give him horrible cramps all night and he usually ended up vomiting blood tinged mucus in the morning, but it wasn't as if he had much longer to live. At least he hoped not.

The boy had long since moved to sparring with Hana. He was shorter then her, but still his wiry body moved into each thrust, taking a hit here and delivering a killing thrust there. He lacked Hana's finesse in the sport, but the power behind it was remarkable. Of course, what about this kid wasn't?

"So this is what you've been doing," said an oily voice behind him. Domo jumped, having been so engrossed he hadn't even heard the door open. Twisting in his chair, he looked back and saw Mitsuyo. The thin scientist was leaning in the doorway, spindly arms folded and staring at the screen. Domo scowled, fingers twitching around the beer can. Shit. Somehow the man had gotten past his security lock. The scientist's watery gaze flicked to him and a thin smile twisted his mouth.

"Tatsu will be disappointed to see who you're really rooting for."

"I'm just watching," Domo said, nervousness tightening his chest. Mitsuyo's eyes narrowed.

"And just how _stupid_ do you think I am?" he asked, pushing away and coming closer. Domo instinctively shrank away from him. "All these files from J. I still see them, even if I don't know what they are. You've been J's little stooge ever since Howell left." Mitsuyo grabbed one of the screens, staring closer as if he couldn't see it clearly. Then with a sharp jerk threw it out on the floor. It smashed against the hard metal. Mitsuyo turned back to him again, and suddenly his hand was wrapped around Domo's wrist in a crushing grip, twisting it roughly so his inner arm was exposed. Domo yelped and tried to pull away but Mitsyo's grip was too strong. The scientist smiled and pressed a thumb against the swollen needle marks in the joint of Domo's elbow.

"This isn't healing," Mitsuyo said in a distant sort of way. "How very curious. I'm afraid it means were going to have to do more tests."  
"It doesn't matter what you do to me," Domo said, more bravado in his words then what he actually felt. It did matter, though. A lot. His throat was dry from fear at the thought.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to interfere. Continue to send your silly little reports to J. Observe the boy. Monitor the boy. Let Howell use you for his little _tool_."

Domo winced again, another kind of pain entirely washing through him. Mitsuyo seemed to notice that his words had impact and his smile widened.

"Because I want them all to see what I'm going to do to the little brat," said Mitsuyo softly. "I want to watch their little hero crumble before their eyes."

----

W00t! Update! I know it's been a month but I participated in National Novel Writing Month

AND WON! WOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! –happy dances-

-coughs-

Anywho, enjoy! Hee-chan in the next chapter! And we might actually GET somewhere this time.

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, I own not. Though much greatness in it I sense. Wish to own it, I do.

Night Mare


	22. The Reason

The boy shifted, pushing himself deeper into the machine. The smell of old fuel lingered in the still air. It wasn't unpleasant in the least. In fact it seemed vaguely comforting. Twisting himself slightly he peered up. He could almost see the generator. Or at least, what he thought was the generator. The position the old demolition was in; it was hard to get access to this part of the suit. And it wasn't really meant for anyone to crawl into either. Wires of all kinds blocked his way and there was various other greasy detritus that slid under his fingers. Squinting into the darkness, the boy took the small flashlight from his teeth and flicked it on. A big shadowy block was above him that the light couldn't quite reach. He was fairly sure that was the power generator. Putting the flashlight back in his teeth, he braced his foot against the ground, grabbed the wires above him and pushed himself up into a wall of dazzling pain. The boy yelped, clenching his teeth around the flashlight and putting a hand to the back of his head on pure impulse.

All his fingers encountered was a lump and he didn't feel concussed. He hoped he wasn't concussed. He couldn't afford to be less than a hundred percent, especially now. He braced his foot against a small rounded ledge right below him, lightly hanging onto the wires as he found his balance. Then he took the flashlight from his teeth, peering upward. This was the power generator, attached to the back of the unit. Wires and tubes flowed from it like veins to all parts of the demolition unit. Hm. Shifting his weight a bit, he pulled the schematics from the waistband of his shorts and flicked it open, holding the flashlight in his teeth again so he could read with both hands. It wasn't easy to follow. There were many things he didn't understand about it. He frowned. Perhaps Dr. J could help him out with that once he'd gotten the Gundam. Although he felt a little annoyed about not knowing it himself, it was a waste of time to struggle on his own when there was someone who could teach him.

He rolled the flashlight between his teeth in thought. From what he could gather, everything--even the computer core--was connected to this generator. If something happened to it the pilot could be in serious danger. According to these schematics there didn't even seem to be a back up generator. Supposedly, this generator model was solid and dependable if you wanted to do slow, precise work. However, moving too fast could short out the generator and if those sparks ate through a fuel line then it would be an entirely different disaster all together.

It was a good machine for demolition work, from what he understood. He flipped to the schematic of the generator itself and narrowed his eyes. The one on the blueprint didn't look like the one in the unit. Could it be a different model? He held the schematics with one hand and took the flashlight from his mouth with the other. From the little information he could read printed on the front of the machine it seemed like the exact same model. Except where the generator in the blueprint was a perfect rectangular cube, this one had a protuberance on the side. It looked like...another generator? Why had someone affixed another one? It was too small to work as any sort of backup. Maybe they wanted to get more power, but what for? He looked back down at the blue prints, wishing he understood more. It seemed to him that that small a generator wouldn't provide much more power anyway, perhaps a short burst for a minute or two but still…

There was a noise outside. The soft hiss of an opening door. The boy clicked off the flashlight and moved his foot away from the ledge, sliding from the demolition unit and abandoning both flashlight and schematics to snatch his gun from the ground and stand against the back of the unit. They couldn't see him from here unless they came to far in. There was the soft clacking of shoes, anxious whispered voices. The boy sighed. Scientists…

He leaned heavily against the bulk of the unit, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Mitsuyo had discovered he existed apparently and had been sending his scared little scientists in droves to try and inject him with something. It was highly annoying. He couldn't go anywhere without scientists peering at him furtively and trying to jump at him from around corners. Fortunately they were all frightened of the gun after he shot the first one in the knee. It would have been much more effective if he'd killed them all, but Mitsuyo had told him that he would never be able to touch the Gundam if he killed anyone.

The door swished open again and the boy narrowed his eyes. More of them?

"Is he here?" a man asked. The others hushed him loudly.

"I was just asking," the man said defensively in a ridiculously loud whisper.

"We don't know," said a woman. "I'm not sure I want to go look, do you?"

"We should probably just leave."

"No, Mitsuyo-sensei said to wait. This is his favorite spot so he'll either come in or out."

The boy frowned. He'd become too predictable. On the other hand, there was only so far to go in such a small area. First, to assess the situation. He shoved the gun into the waistband of his shorts and hugged the floor, squirming on his belly so he could peer further into the room. There were six people. The door slid open again to reveal three more. Demolition pilots… The boy recognized them from the lunch room.

"You stand guard outside," said the woman. "We'll take care of in here."

They nodded and stepped out. If Mitsuyo was hiring demolition pilots to hunt for him, he must be desperate. Something was going on. But what? Well, whatever it was, now was not the time to think of it.. The first plan was escape. Six people. It was a risk to try and go through them, especially since they had needles on their person. Even if he did, the pilots outside would be alerted and they were bigger than him, stronger and probably armed on top of that. The second option was to hide and wait them out. But there were only limited places to hide and if he was found, it would be difficult to escape easily. The third option was the ventilation shafts. There were two that led into the room. The one to the far left only led to the other hangar, and that would mean running the gamut of scientists and pulling off the grate. He glanced up. The other shaft was in the ceiling. He could just barely reach it if he climbed to the top of the demolition unit. He wasn't entirely sure where it went, either. The blueprints of the satellite told him that it connected to a maintenance shaft. Where it came out, he had no idea. There was no telling how old those blueprints were, or their accuracy. It was definitely a risky option.

The boy thought for a moment, running all the scenarios through his mind once more, just in case there was something he'd missed. The overhead ventilation shaft seemed like the only option at the moment. He inched back behind the cover of the unit, and began to climb. It was harder than it looked. There were plenty of handholds, as wrecked as the unit was, but the sharp jagged metal sliced easily into his palm if he wasn't careful. He reached the shoulder and pulled himself up. The scientists were either watching the door or talking to one another in small groups. None of them seemed to notice him. Unfortunately, to reach the grate he would have to expose his back to them. Hopefully they would be stupid enough to shout out if they spotted him.

The grate was further up than he anticipated. He reached up, standing up on the balls of his feet, working at the screw that held the grate in place. This was stupid. Dangerously stupid. He was too exposed here. Getting down would be even stupider. The screw came out. The boy slipped it into his tank top so it wouldn't clatter on the floor, wiped his sweaty fingers on his shorts and started on the other one.

There was a pop from behind him and a small slice of pain flashed across his ankle. The boy didn't even bother to look back. They saw him. He worked faster on the screw. Another small pop sounded and all the warning he had was a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. He twitched his head to the side, feeling the air of whatever it was as it passed right by his cheek. Whatever it was plinked off the wall and clattered to the floor. There was no time to check what it was.

With a grunt, he yanked the second screw free and wrenched the grate down. More popping noises behind him. The boy jumped, catching the ledge of the vent and scrambling up. Pain exploded in his calf and the scientists burst into cheers. Cursing to himself he clambered into the vent, crawling as fast as he could away from the access point. Once a fair distance away, he stopped, resting against the wall. The vent was just big enough to sit in if he hunched over. It was warm too and he could feel the faint vibrations from the machinery humming along behind it.

The boy took his mind off his surroundings to concentrate on his leg. It didn't hurt anymore. In fact, it felt like he hadn't been hit at all. He ran a hand down his calf and blinked when his fingers encountered a small metallic lump embedded into his skin. What was it? He tried to twist around to see, but the light was too dim. He managed to slip a fingernail between the device and his skin and pulled. It didn't budge. He pulled harder and there was a small snipping sound as his nail broke. Hn. That obviously wasn't working.

"He's not in this room either, sir," said a faint voice from below.

"He must be still in the ducts," answered another. "Do it, Yoshiki."

"Yes, sir."

The boy tensed. The air filled with a faint high pitched whine. A spot of heat grew on his calf. His heart skipped a beat. Oh shit. Grabbing the metal between two fingers, he desperately tried to tug it off. Searing pain ripped up his leg, as if millions of needles were puncturing his skin, twisting savagely up his muscles to claw up his back. Then it was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had come. Sweat ran down his face. His throat felt raw. Had he screamed? His leg was throbbing. He cursed under his breath, pinching the metallic device between shaking fingers and trying to tear it off. It was no use. Whatever the thing was it was embedded into his skin. Damnit. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and twisted, trying to get a better look. . There was a skreeking sound up ahead. The boy looked up. Someone was unscrewing the vent in the next hangar.

"Be careful," said the commanding voice. "He might not be unconscious."

He needed to think quickly. Shooting them was out of the question. He might not get the Gundam if he accidentally killed one of them. Besides, if he pulled a gun, they could very well panic and activate the device again. It might just knock him out the next time, and he couldn't afford to be unconscious right now. But what then? If he crawled away, they would activate the device…and going with them was too great a risk. But maybe… He fingered the device again, biting down a little as he probed the bruised skin around it, trying to get a feel of how embedded it was. The grate creaked open and the broad face of one of the pilots appeared. More than an arm's length from him. The man smiled in a tight way, working his hand up to reach for the boy.

"Come on, now," said the demolition pilot. "We're not going to hurt you. We only want to help."

The boy didn't bother with a reply. Seeing the pilot had nothing in his hand to knock him out or otherwise damage him, the boy pulled the gun out of the waistband of his shorts. The pilot's eyes widened.

"Oh shit!" he bellowed, his voice echoing along the metal tunnels. "Press it, Yoshiki! Press it!"

The boy's heart jumped into his throat. He felt the spot of heat grow again, twisting around; he aimed a centimeter below the device on his leg, reminded himself he didn't have time for pain and pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot nearly deafened him; he could hear it ringing in his ears. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. There was a spark of white on the floor, and another. It was the device, he realized. A small electricity field zapped around it as it malfunctioned. He watched it, drawn into it. Like…like…something Odin used to say. A…a moth to a—

Something grabbed his arm. The boy jerked around, slamming the butt of his gun into the pilot's face. He felt the man's nose give under the sudden weight, heard the small sharp snap. Blood gushed from his face, splattering across the metal. The man screamed and fell back. The boy threw himself on his hip to kick his leg out, the solid impact ran up his leg and the man's head jerked back. But there was no pain. No pain. Only images. Golden white images overlaying anything, little orbs of white flowing through them that didn't make any sense.

"Get down!" someone was shouting. He ducked. But it wasn't…It was down below. They were down below. The scientists. He had to get away. The pilot disappeared from the grate as if he was pulled down. The boy swung down, dropping down after him. His leg gave out underneath him, sending him to his knee. But there was no pain. No pain. There was something wrong. The scientists stared at him. Everything was too clear, the strands of their hair, the weave of their coats. He could hear them breathing. He could hear himself breathing heavily. His heartbeat accelerated.

A flicker of movement, a scientist was raising a gun. The boy pushed himself off the floor and broke into a run, heading straight for her. He could see the woman's muscles tense, her hand closing over the trigger. The boy grabbed her wrist, feeling her skin under his palm. Jerking her forward, he snapped his other hand up into her elbow. It gave and she screamed. Letting her go, the boy darted from the room and tore down the hallway; there were more men there, big, strong. He dodged the first one, slipping on a slick spot and slamming hard into the wall, knocking the breath out of him.

The men were still moving for him. The scientists were coming into the hall. Everything was moving so fast, faster than he could keep up with. His hand twitched and he felt the grip of the gun against his palm. But he couldn't do that. There had to be another way out, another option. He had to think. _Think. _

There was a familiar dinging sound coming from just around the curve of the hall. The lift! The boy shoved himself away from the wall just as the pilot lunged for him. He twisted around the bulk of the man and ran as fast as he could, breath loud in his ears. There was a pop behind him and one of the devices pinged off the floor by his foot. That was close. If he got implanted again it would be all over. He fought the urge to look back and instead kept going, following the curve of the wall closely, picking up his speed. As he came closer, a man with a clipboard came out of the lift. The man looked up at him, eyes widening.

"Grab him!" someone shouted. The lift doors were closing. The boy threw himself into a tumble, getting into the lift a moment before the doors slid shut. He pounded the button for the above floor repeatedly, only stepping back when the lift groaned and started to move. He waited impatiently for a few seconds, fingers twitching over the emergency stop switch. When he was sure the lift was between floors, he yanked it down, feeling the old lift grind to a stop.

He stumbled back, intending to lean on the wall and instead sitting hard on the floor. The boy leaned forward, resting his arms on his raised knees, dipping his head low. His breath roared in his ears and the sound of his heartbeat seemed to fill the small space. He was shaking all over and though he knew he was the only one in the lift, he kept seeing movement out of the corner of his eye. The hem of a lab coat, the boots of a pilot, the sandaled feet of a child. It wasn't real. They were just tricks of light. I…Illusions. There had to be something more to that device. But…but…he couldn't think about that now. He had to move. They had easy access to the lift. They could even override the controls to make it move despite the emergency brake. But where could he go? Who could he trust? There was nowhere. He was all alone. But he had survived this long. He could survive longer. He didn't need anyone to help him!

He stood up and had to slam his hand against the wall to keep himself from going down again as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He held himself as still as he could until it passed and raised his head. A bright fleck of red on the floor caught his attention. Blood. That's right. He…he was bleeding. And still was. The back of his sock was stained red and blood plopped to the floor at his foot. Untucking his shirt, he tore off a strip from the bottom and tied it around his leg, pulling it tightly and tying it off. It wouldn't last for long. But hopefully it would staunch the bleeding.

The first thing to do…the first thing to do was to go back to his room. Unless they were waiting for him there. That would be the place they would expect him to go. This wasn't just a random attack. This had been more planned. They wanted to get him out of the way. Was it just because Mitsuyo was tired of failing? Or was there something else happening? He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He wanted to pace, wanted to move. What should he do now? Where should he go?

There was a soft click. The boy's eyes snapped open. Before he could even guess what the sound was, the lift started up. They were trying to trap him again. The boy grabbed at his gun. The weapon fumbled through his shaking hands and clattered to the floor. He scooped it up and stumbled to the opposite side of the lift, pressing himself the wall right beside the doors. How many would there be? There were at least two other lifts beside this one. Would they come up on those? Or would there be more waiting on the second level for him? Would they have those gun things? He might have to kill some of them to get out of this. But how many could he kill before they took him down? And after he was down, what would they do to him?

The lift jerked to a stop. The boy lifted the gun, finger tensing on the trigger. The lift doors swished slowly open. It seemed to take an eternity. He braced himself, preparing for the flood of people and devices. But there was nothing.

"Damnit all, where is he?" The voice was familiar but hoarse, as if the man had used too much. "Are you sure this is the right one?"

"It has to be." That was…Hana? The boy narrowed his eyes. Though he wasn't really surprised that she was part of it. "They said they drove him into lift C and why else would I have to override the lock?"

"Well we better make sure."

Go to meet them or stay hidden? Stay hidden. Let them come to him one at a time. He had the advantage in here. There was a creaking sound he couldn't identify and Domo rolled in. The boy remained where he was. He still didn't trust the man. Just because the boy hadn't caught him doing anything didn't mean that he hadn't.

"Well he's not here," Domo said turning the chair in a circle. As he started to direct the chair out of the lift, he caught the boy's eyes and startled. He didn't say anything for a long moment, as if he was trying to think of what to say. The boy watched him carefully. That was unusual for him, wasn't it? Domo always knew what to say.

"Is he in there, Domo-sempai?" Hana asked. Domo shifted back in his chair and the familiar smirk crawled across his face. The boy pointed the gun at him, staring straight into the man's eyes. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy again and the images were back, dancing in and out of his peripheral vision.

"Go ahead," Domo said. "It would actually be doing me a favor."

He saw a shadow move on the wall and turned the gun on Hana just as she slipped in. Her eyes widened and she backed up a step, placing her hand flat against the wall. She was the greater threat. But…Domo was more devious.

"We're trying to help!" she said. She took a step toward him.

"Don't," the boy said shortly. Glancing between the two of them. The first quick movement and he was going to shoot. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," said Domo, the smirk still on his face. The boy glared at him. He hated the amusement in his voice. As if he didn't care. As if he wasn't taking the boy seriously. Domo leaned forward a little.

"But what I do know is that we're wasting time. You can either risk trusting us or face your chances with them."

There was a soft insistent beeping from outside. Hana glanced toward the lift opening, then cautiously at the boy before glancing back at Domo.

"I think they've unlocked lifts A and B."

"Your call," Domo said. There was so much risk involved. So much risk but so little time. Finally the boy nodded, lifting his gun from the two, but still keeping his finger on the trigger. Domo nodded at Hana. She gave the boy a quick glance before leaving the room. In a moment, she was back with the laptop, she pressed the close doors button before kneeling on the floor, taking a screwdriver from the bag hanging at her side and working on a section of paneling just below the buttons.

"What are we doing?" the boy asked. Neither of them answered as Hana pulled off the panel. She took a thick black cord out of the back, attaching one end to the laptop. The other end went somewhere in the tangle of wires that lay behind the panel. The boy pointed the gun at her once more. He didn't like this silence.

"What are we doing?" he repeated again, his words sounding a bit slurred to his own ears. He straightened a little, blinked the sweat from his eyes. Tried to stay focused on her and not the fuzzy afterimages that radiated in the air around her.

"To the first floor," Hana said, after a quick glance at Domo.

"That's the restricted floor." Mitsuyo's floor. The hair on the back of the boy's neck prickled.

"And they'll be less likely to look for you there," Domo said as Hana flipped the laptop open. "From there on, we can figure out what to do. Trust me, boy." The man glanced down at Hana and the boy followed his gaze, watching the string of symbols fly across the screen as her fingers danced over the keyboard.

"I'm on your side," Domo murmured. There was a sharp click and the lift started down again. The boy crouched, shifting the weight onto his good leg and leaning against the wall for support. Domo was watching him steadily. His long bone like fingers moved impatiently over the armrest of the wheel chair, as if he was typing out the data himself. Something was …wrong. Something he should be seeing but he wasn't. The boy thought hard, trying to piece together everything that had happened.

"It would be so much easier if you just gave up," Hana said softly. The boy said nothing. Hana always said things like that…but it seemed to have a different tone now. As if there was something important behind her words.

"But of course he wouldn't. He wants to be a hero after all," said Domo. He could feel the man's stare on him. "He can't just run away."

Again there seemed to be something. The boy's fingers twitched convulsively over the gun. The weight was comfortable but at the same time the feeling of it sent a stab of anxiety through him. He couldn't think. He was missing something. Something important. He _knew _he was. The lift was slowing down, grinding to a stop. Domo was still staring at him and the boy lifted his gaze to the man's face. The usual smirk was gone and his expression look strained. Domo glanced from him to the door and back again. The boy glanced to the door himself as the lift settled. But there was no break in the seal, no one coming through. Domo sighed heavily.

"These lifts are so slow," the man said. "I always end up feeling a little trapped."

The boy stared. That was a strange thing to say. Something was wrong with this whole situation…but what? The boy blinked as he realized, his heart jumping. It was a code! It had to be. The boy backed against the doors as the lift clunked to a full stop. He pointed the gun at Domo, using both hands to keep it steady. There were no allies here. It was just a trap. It was all a trap!

"No, stupid!" Domo snapped.

The boy could feel the doors slide open behind him. Suddenly a hand twisted into the back of his shirt and pulled hard, sending him stumbling back into the corridor. The room spun crazily and the boy sank to one knee to keep from falling over. A shadow loomed over him and he looked up to see Tatsu just before the teen's bony hands wrapped in his shirt and hauled him to his feet. The boy grabbed at Tatsu' s hands, trying to pry him off but the teenager only smirked and shoved him back hard against the wall. The boy gritted his teeth as pain rang through him again. He was feeling so very weak. He didn't know how much longer he could last. But letting Tatsu win was unacceptable, so he had to try. Curls of darkness swept around his vision.

"No where left to run, kid," Tatsu said, triumph in his voice. "You're just lucky that no one else thought that you would be stupid enough to come down here. But I knew you would. Hana's innocent face can fool anyone."

"Tatsu…" Hana said.

Gun… Gun… The boy twitched his fingers, but the familiar weight of the gun was gone and his hand was empty. Where was it? He must have dropped it when Tatsu pushed him. The boy looked around, forcing himself to concentrate, and saw it lying on the floor a few feet past Tatsu's shoulder. Now if only he could get there. If only he could get away.

"Hana-chan, get the needle ready," Tatsu said, glancing at her briefly, then back at the boy. "There is going to be a little test for the candidates soon and for some reason, Mitsuyo-sensei thinks that you're going to cheat." A wide grin split Tatsu's face but his eyes were still narrowed, angry. There was a glint in his eyes, a faint flicker of madness. The look of a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

"But we're not going to let you, are we? No. We'll pump you so full of chemicals it will be amazing if you can stand.

"Why not let him win?" Domo said, his voice slightly muffled. Or maybe it was the boy's hearing that was shutting down.

"Why not?" Domo repeated. He was standing, the boy realized vaguely. Weak and shaky, but he was standing and hiding something at his side, holding it away from Tatsu's vision. "If he does, Mitsuyo will have no reason to keep us here. If he wins, we can go free."

"Oh, this has gone far beyond freedom. This is about revenge." He spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Revenge for all of us."

That was stupid. It was so stupid. The boy scrabbled weakly at Tatsu's hand, feeling himself fading with every breath.

"I'm sorry," Domo said, raising his hand, his arm shaking. The gun. He was holding the gun. But there were…tears on his face. "I'm sorry."

Gunfire popped in his ears, roaring loud, ringing against his skull. Tatsu's grip loosened and the boy felt himself falling. He managed to get his legs under him but they gave under his weight and sparks shot behind his eyes as he hit the floor hard. There was blood in the air, blood in his mouth. Hana was screaming from far away.

"Taatsuuu!"

There was running, the sound of feet ringing against the metal corridor. Voices. Grey, then the heavy world of black.

---  
---

It was dark when the boy came slowly became aware. It was dark and he was lying on something uncomfortable and metal, but his head was propped on something soft. There was no beeping sound above him, he noted with relief. No sound at all except his own breathing and the faint hum of a functioning satellite. There was something…wrong. He shouldn't be here. He tried to remember what had happened before, but got only vague impressions of color and noise. The boy let that go for now and instead concentrated inward. He wasn't thinking clearly, like someone had wrapped his brain in a woolly blanket. His tongue was swollen in his dry mouth and there was a medicinal taste in the back of his throat, though he was fairly certain he hadn't swallowed everything. His face ached. The boy lifted a hand to his cheek, gingerly feeling the bruise with his fingertips, then worked his jaw and checked his mouth slowly with his tongue. Nothing broken. No teeth loose. It was just a little swollen from where he…fell. He had fallen, hadn't he? Because…Tatsu had dropped him. Memory flooded back, but it was still hazy, as if everything that had happened had been a dream. He reached down as he recalled the scientists had shot him in the leg with that device and felt bandages there. The wound underneath still ached and stung when he shifted his leg to test it, otherwise it felt sound. Whoever had wrapped the bandages had had time and knew what they were doing. But who had it been? And where was he now?

The boy tentatively sat up, lifting his hand above him to feel for the ceiling so he wouldn't crack his head on it. He sat straight and comfortable, but the warm metal ceiling was only a few inches above him. He swept out his hands on either side. Metal on his right, brushing his fingertips. To the left, he had to lean on his hip to reach the wall. As he dropped his hand down the smooth surface, his fingers encountered a rounded raised edge. He followed it with his fingers and felt something which seemed like a switch. Carefully, the boy pushed it down. Light flooded the area and the boy flinched as the searing white of it sent a stabbing needle through his brain. He forced himself to squint, trying to get used to it, his head throbbing. Finally his eyes adjusted, but his head still ached. The small space was only a little longer than he was. He could lie on his stomach and reach the wall. A light had been attached to the left wall, a single bare bulb that flared harshly. The boy twisted around and saw that a blanket had been rolled up for his head. Whoever had put him here had wanted him to be a little comfortable. That could mean anything, though. Either someone had placed him here in hopes no one would find him, or that he wouldn't get out.

The boy shifted on to his knees, ignoring the pain, and ran his fingers along the walls, searching for seams in the metal. He had to get out of here. Off of the satellite. It was no longer safe for him to train here. He would get out and then hide in the air ducts until a shuttle came along, then sneak aboard somehow. Afterwards he would go find Dr. J and explain the situation. He was sure the scientist would understand. Leaving was the only logical course right now. The boy's plans grew muddled as he worked, his thoughts turning only to finding that crack that had to be around here somewhere. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging into his eyes. It was getting hot. Maybe it was an oven. Maybe Mitsuyo was trying to roast him alive. The boy pushed that thought from his mind and tried to focus on the task.

At the far end of the little space, he finally found what he thought he was looking for. There was a tiny black line that ran in a half square, connecting to the floor. It wouldn't be a big space, but he could shimmy through on his belly. He tried clawing at the metal, working his fingernails into the small crack and pulling. The metal didn't budge. Grunting with frustration, he slammed the heel of his hand against it and started in surprise when the section of metal popped open, coming away from the wall enough to get his fingers in. The boy did and pulled. The metal came away easily, attached with well camouflaged hinges at the floor. The boy eased the metal down and stared, frustration and bewilderment mingling in him. He hadn't uncovered a passage, rather a small alcove.

Inside was a stuffed purple dog, missing one eye, left ear frayed, worn with use. It sat beside an old worn box that looked like the kind used to hold medical supplies. Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled the box to him, clicking open the latches on either side and opening it. There were cards inside and folded up paper that were still white and crisp despite the dates written on them which marked them written years ago. One of the pieces of paper was open, the kanji neat and decisive.

_Two boys were bought in today, I think the older is called Tatsu but I didn't catch the name of the younger. They are both young, still crying for their mother. Dr. Evil says that she's rotted to death in some Alliance prison. He will destroy them. _

There were other notes too with names he didn't recognize. Notes from happenings from different colonies. The casualties when the Alliance came down heavily on one colony or another. The broadcasts that he'd heard sometimes in the hangar echoed in his head. So many people were dying and getting hurt, because of the Alliance… and people like Mitsuyo were feeding off it. Feeding off other people's fear and misery. It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! The boy wiped the sweat from his forehead and pulled more notes from the box. The kanji became shakier as he went, the messages simpler. He shuffled the shakier letters to the side impatiently and blinked as two photographs stared at him from the bottom of the box. One was of Howell and a younger Domo, standing very close, but it was the other that caught his eye. Dr. J, with threads of black in his hair, standing beside a red car. Beside him, a hand on his shoulder, was Mitsuyo.

Before the boy had time to process this, he heard tapping sounds from elsewhere. Sounds that were coming steadily closer. Footsteps. The boy hastily put the notes away, closed the alcove back up and hit the light switch, flooding the tiny compartment with darkness once more. The footsteps came close to the right side of the metal wall. The boy pushed himself into the far left hand corner, knees bent, hands braced on the floor in front of him. As soon as a door opened, if a door opened, he would bolt for the exit as fast as he could. There was a scraping sound and a small crescent of light appeared which widened to a circle a little bigger than his eye. But no eye appeared on the other side. All he could see was a floor and the bottom of a shelf.

"Right now, there is now way off this satellite." Domo's voice filtered in from close by. "Mitsuyo has everyone on alert looking for you and there are men guarding all the docking areas. You're only safe here." He hesitated a moment. "Are you awake? Do you understand?"

Could he trust him? If he said nothing, maybe Domo would open the door anyway to check on him and then he could escape. But what if Domo was right? The boy had lost his gun somewhere and had no defense against them. He could creep through the air vents but getting to them would be a high risk.

"I could have left you to die there," Domo said, sounding annoyed. "But I didn't. I dragged your sorry carcass all the way up here and I didn't do all that effort just to kill you now."

That made sense, if Domo was telling the truth. But who else could have taken him up here? He didn't think Hana would. Trusting Domo was a risk, but at least it was a lesser risk compared to others.

"I understand," the boy said.

"So you're not going to jump me the moment you're free?" There was more sarcasm in his voice than anything, but since the door hadn't yet opened, the boy supposed it was a serious question.

"I won't."

Two fingers hooked in the hole and pulled to the side, there was the sound of moving metal and the opening slid to the left, letting in cool air. The boy crawled out into the light and the room proper. Domo was crouched a few feet away, his face pale, but his eyes were fever bright. One hand was still on the door, the other was resting on his leg, fingers twitching and jumping. The boy tried to stand and felt as if the gravity had been increased ten times. His leg shook underneath him, twinging and weak.

"Sit before you hurt yourself," Domo said, sliding the door back and standing with a fluid grace. The boy lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. He wanted to stand but there was something wrong with him. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out again. Domo picked up a small brown bag from a small table and handed it out to the boy who took it cautiously. Inside was a sandwich, a few stalks of wilted celery and a can of juice.

"It's all I could sneak from the kitchen," Domo said, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Eat all of it. You'll need your energy. I don't know what they shot you up with, but it's going to be hell."

"Shot me up with?" the boy asked, pulling out the celery and inspecting it before taking a bite. It was stringy and got caught in his teeth but it was food and, he discovered, he was hungry.

"I don't know, but I do know they managed to tag you, so they must have injected you with something, which is probably highly addictive too, the bastards." Domo began to pace the room, back and forth, folding his hands behind him and slapping one into the other. His movements were too quick, as if he couldn't stand to sit still. The boy wondered what he meant by tagged. Then remembered, as if in a dream, having to shoot that little black device off his leg. The thought that he had been injected with some some sort of drug made his stomach twist over.

"So what does that mean?" the boy asked, hating not knowing the answers. Domo grinned, his eyes wide.

"It means you'll go through the hell of withdrawal. But I can't see it lasting more then two or three days, if you're lucky. And, fortunately for you, that's about the time you get to leave this paradise."

The boy had started to nibble the sandwich, the word withdrawl relaxing him a little. That meant that he would get over it. No lasting damage. Right? At Domo's last words, though, he glanced up at the man. Leaving? When? How? Was this something planned to the last detail or did the boy have to bolt for it? He stared at Domo, waiting for the answers. Domo smirked and the boy glared. He was tired of the games. Tired of Domo trying to jerk him around.

"Are you going to tell me what's going to happen?" the boy said, trying to sound bland rather than annoyed. Domo spread his hands, palms up.

"Would that I could, kid. You're leaving in three days. That's all J-sensei would tell me." Domo's smile widened and he looked at a point beyond the boy. "He doesn't want Mitsuyo to torture it out of me, you see."

The boy was immediately on guard. What else could Mitsuyo torture out of Domo? How secure was he really? Wanting to reach for his gun before remembering he had none. He tried to think an escape only to realize that parts of his memory of the satellite layout were blurry or missing. Something wet plopped on his ankle and he looked down to see a grey blob of tuna from the sandwich, greasy and filmed with white from the mayonnaise. His hand was trembling and he watched, feeling apart from himself, as his right index finger twitched against the bread.

"That's the start," Domo said, suddenly solemn. He crouched and stared at the boy, his face looking strange without the mocking smile. Like he was someone else. "But the withdrawal gets worse. Much worse then that. I couldn't take it which is why I'm still here. If I had…if I had maybe Tatsu would still be alive." The smirk came back suddenly and Domo lifted his fingers as if he was holding a gun. "Or maybe if I hadn't blew his brains out he'd still be alive."

"He had to die sometime," the boy said, trying to keep his hands from twitching. It didn't work. The headache was starting to ease back, making him squint as the soft pain beat at his temples.

"Did he?" Domo said. He said nothing more for a long while. A stretch which seemed like an eternity as the boy's vision dimmed then brightened to almost painful clarity. But even though it felt as if he could pick out the individual fibers on Domo's shirt, he couldn't focus. Couldn't get his eyes to move.

"You'll be safe in there," Domo was saying and the boy suddenly realized he was being led back to the hiding space in the wall. "No one knows about it except the people that should." There were things he needed to ask, the boy knew. Things he needed to confirm. But he wasn't sure what they were. He was on the edge of something. On the edge with the pit black underneath him. An empty pit of stars.

"How can I trust you?" the boy asked. He was lying on his back now, head pillowed, staring at Domo who seemed to be surrounded by the light. Domo smirked, his black eyes like sheets of ice.

"You can't."

---

The minutes stretched into hours, the hours into days, the days into eternity. It was impossible to tell here in the darkness. There were times when the boy thought he was dead. When he couldn't even feel himself anymore and wanted to let go but knew his soul would be lost, trapped inside the cold metal satellite, trapped in the place of death and blood and pain. Other times his body thrashed around without him and all he could think of was the pain ripping apart his insides, as if someone was cutting away at his organs with scissors or giant slabs of notched steel.

Then there were the dreams. Thick gray smoke, choking, piles of granite, support beams sticking up out of them like reaching skeletal arms as he searched for the one thing he couldn't find. The gleaming side of shuttles, a house, a mansion, a car that screeched, driver looking startled as he came nearer, the pop of gunfire in his head. Miss Celia watching him with glassy eyes mixing with Odin's, blending, united in death. And then black eyes, black as the space between the stars as Domo spoke to him in whispers. Offering him the liquid that would free him from this pain. It was silver in the needle, the color of metal, steel, gundanium. He wanted it. Wanted it to stop. To end. It was so hard and it was only going to get harder. He wanted to curl up and die. Hide in the blackness until it went away.

But no. No he couldn't go because it wasn't about him. It was about Odin, Miss Celia, Domo, Tatsu, Hana, the rebels who fought and died, the families that struggled, everyone who'd suffered because of the Alliance. He could help them. Save them. Free the colonies to live in peace. He knew it. He lived for it. He could taste it on his vomit tinged breath, with blood in his mouth as his head smashed against the wall, body fighting to let go, to go on. Go on no matter how it hurt. Go on because he had to. Go on. GO ON!

Something snapped. A cord breaking away under too much stress, falling and coiling into the darkness. The boy fell back, chest heaving. He was numb from head to foot but he could hear his heart. The steady quiet beat of his pulse. Thu-dum, thu-dum, thu-dum. It was comforting, even though he knew it was his own effort that kept it that way. He slept, dreaming he held his heart in his hands, listening to its rhythm.

It was still and dark. The boy blinked slowly. The air smelled of sweat and blood and urine as well as other things he didn't want to think about. Just because he acknowledged them didn't mean he had to dwell on it. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed but he seemed to be thinking clearly. He felt his leg again, feeling it swollen, but he didn't smell infection which was good. He rose slowly, needing his hands to support himself and even then his arms shook with the effort. His stomach grumbled weakly. He was dehydrated badly. He would need more than water. Possibly medical attention which meant inevitably an IV. He felt he could deal with it as long as there wasn't a heart monitor.

He pushed himself against the wall, wedging himself in a corner so he could lean against both walls and not fall over. Any sort of medical attention would have to wait. In the meantime, he needed to get sustenance on his own. It would be dangerous. Especially dangerous in his weakened state. But by staying here he would die. Failure was simply not an option.

The boy sat for a moment longer, trying to gather what strength he had. Then felt along the door for the bump that would indicate the small door for the peephole. He found it after a while, pressing hard to push it away and squinting at the sudden light. He shifted slowly to his knees, staring out the peephole to the seemingly empty room. There were no sounds except for the soft whirring of a computer. Finally his eyes adjusted and he hooked both hands in the peephole and strained to push the door to the side. It was heavier then it looked and the boy had to strain to get it open even a little bit. He moved it only wide enough for him to squeeze out. He couldn't afford expending any extra energy.

It was easier to slip out of than he imagined and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally emerged. The room was empty, the bed undisturbed. The boy stood, his hand damp against the wall as he used it to hold himself up. There were bottles of chemicals, medicines against the far wall. Beyond that another door. Smaller. Closet or bathroom? It was diagonal across the room and he would have to push away from the wall to get it. Was it worth the effort? A little water wasn't going to get him very far. But it might get him further than nothing would.

The boy readied himself again and started across the room. Stumbling and nearly falling twice as his legs threatened to give out on him. Thankfully the door did lead to a bathroom and the boy leaned heavily on the sink. He washed his hands first, then took measured sips of the water as he cleaned his face and arms and finally washed out his mouth. When he had drank as much as he dared, he moved back to lean against the wall. There was a clock on the far end of the bedroom. He could read the black numbers clearly, even see an incongruous fleck of white in the middle of the five. It was two-thirty. AM or PM he couldn't tell. He could go to where the computer was, he supposed, and find out the time and send a message to Dr. J. The computer room seemed so far away .

Still he had to do it. The boy gathered himself once more but before he could stand straight, he heard faint beepings outside and woosh as the door to the room opened. The boy's eyes narrowed. It could be Domo. It could be anyone. There was no time to get away. Nowhere to hide. There was a razor on the edge of the sink and the boy picked it up, popping out the blade and tucking it, blunt side down into the fold of his hand. It wasn't much of a weapon but it was better than nothing at all. He pressed himself against the wall of the bathroom and waited.

"It smells like something died in here." Mitsuyo. And how many with him? At least one other. He was feeling confident. That would be his downfall. The boy would get them both somehow. If they found him. He wasn't going to attack. If not he was going to hide just a little longer.

"Well, there it is," said Mitsuyo. "Feel free to go look at his corpse if you want to." There was silence and then Mitsuyo said: "Do! Don't be so proud. It took me a day and a half to get the information out of Domo. It's all right, though. I enjoyed it immensely. So go ahead. Do whatever you want with his corpse. Shoot it out the airlock. Cook it. Decorate it. Even-"

"I've had just about enough of the blabbering idiot." The voice was familiar. Dr. J? "Are you ready to go, boy?"

The boy took a hesitant peek around the corner and saw it really was him, leaning on his cane and staring at the smirking face of Mitsuyo. The boy hesitated. It could be a trap. On the other hand, it could be real. He would have to take the risk. Still keeping the razor in his hand, he emerged from the bathroom, walking carefully to where the two men were.

"I'm ready," he said. "Let's go."

Mitsuyo's mouth hung open and the boy watched him carefully, ready for any sign of violence. Mitsuyo just stared at him, gaping, eyes so wide they looked in danger of falling out. The boy stared at Dr. J. It had been a long time since he'd seen him. It didn't seem real somehow. The scientist smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, both steadying him and supporting him.

"I do believe this is goodbye," Dr. J said, tapping his cane twice against the floor. The door slid open again and two men came in, drawing black guns which they immediately aimed at Mitsuyo.

"What's the meaning of this?" Mitsuyo said.

"I barely trust you in front of me," J said. "Let alone my back."

Dr. J guided the boy around and together they left the room. The boy used his support as much as he could, knowing he needed it. There was another man and a woman outside. They nodded to Dr. J and the man flanked him while the woman walked ahead. The boy heard the other two men fall into step behind him. Even though the corridor was deserted and there were four armed guards, the boy still felt on edge.

They reached a lift and the woman pressed the down button. Then she leaned against the wall, taking out her own gun and holding it up and ready while the guard beside Dr. J took up his own weapon and did the same on the other side of the lift. The doors slid open and both guards swung at once to point their guns inside. Apparently there was no one there for they both nodded to Dr. J and slipped in. The boy sighed inwardly as Dr. J guided him toward the lift. They really should have taken a second to check first. If anyone inside had had a gun, both could have been taken out by sheer surprise.

Once inside, the boy waited until the doors closed before he slumped from the wall to the floor, feeling dizzy. Dr. J stood over him, both hands on his cane, staring down at him through the dark eyepieces. Who knew what those things were. Or what they saw.

"We're going to acclimatize you now," said Dr. J as the woman took out a screwdriver and her and one the guards began to work the panel off the lift wall. "You've been in lower gravity so long that the normal levels could put you into shock."

The boy nodded. It made sense to him. He watched the man and woman work; absently trying to memorize which wires they switched and which buttons they pressed to change the internal pressure. Something occurred to him. That picture he'd seen in the box.

"You…and Mitsuyo were friends?" the boy asked, voice croaking in his throat. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to know, but he was too tired to think up the right question.

"Ah, so you saw that picture did you?" Dr. J asked. Before the boy could answer, he went on. "Yes. We were. He was my protégée once upon a time, back when I dabbled in genetics. He held so much promise. I picked him out from among the other students. Taught him everything I knew. I even let him drive my car. That was a 169 Imperio Starrunner, you know, anti-grav boosters, ten point steering and," he held up a finger. "And this is important. Full leather interior. Real earth leather, too. I wouldn't even let my own Grandmother drive that car had she been alive. But I trusted him that much. And now I can't even go to meet him without an armed guard." Dr. J shook his head. "He's a cruel man. Of course if you manage to get the Gundam, you could exact any revenge you wanted to."

"The Gundam isn't for that," the boy said, annoyed. That's what Tatsu wanted. Maybe Hana, too. "It isn't for revenge, it isn't for escaping, it's for freeing the colonies. It's so the people up here can live in peace."

"And that," said Dr. J with a warmth in his voice that surprised the boy. "Is why you're here."

---

For my bear. See? See? I didn't give up on it! It's still going. I'm just slow!

Disclaimer yada yada don't own yada yada poor don't sue yada yada


	23. Wing Gundam: Part I

The colony swept below, curving gently like the side of a bowl. The colony was now in its night cycle and lit up, more or less. The buildings of the commercial district clustered in the middle, one building with a glass dome that shone steadily and reminded the boy of a lighthouse he'd seen in a picture once. Houses and apartment buildings filled up the rest of the space, lights flickering now and again as the power grid malfunctioned, which seemed to happen a lot. It was an old colony and the Alliance's presence was slight at best but the government here seemed to have troubles scraping up the money necessary for quality repair.

The boy rested his arm on his raised knee as he stared out the small window his room provided. Despite the worn conditions on colony, there was life there, warmth. He remembered being surprised the first time he'd wandered along the narrow, twisting streets, not long after he'd been bought back from the satellite, and seeing a small park in a knot of trees. There had been children, running through the soft grass and flinging up handfuls of sand in the sandbox. A few adults had been scattered throughout, either tending children or perched on benches, chattering to one another. A woman had pushed a baby on a swing so that the infant squealed and kicked tiny feet. He didn't know how long he'd stayed there and watched them, but he hadn't been able to look away. Even now, he wanted to go back and watch. Their lives were so fragile. A single bullet was enough to kill them but yet they laughed and played with soft faces as if they weren't even aware of the danger.

Watching them had made him feel strange in the pit of his stomach. He touched his belly reflexively. It was almost like…hunger…or the onset of food poisoning. It wasn't something anyone had been able to explain to him. The one medical doctor they had told him that whatever it had been wasn't due to ill health and Dr. J had just smiled and said that some things were beyond explanation. If it was that far beyond explaining, the boy wished he could just forget about it. He leaned his head against the wall, letting his hand drop to the hard floor which was metal underneath the thin red carpet.

There was a knock at the door and he glanced thoughtfully at the gun that lay right beside him, dull black but shining with a strip of light from the small desk lamp.

"Come in," he said, deciding he probably didn't need the gun but wasn't going to open himself to attack. Not that he expected anyone to attack him here. The colony was a lot safer than the satellite, but it never hurt to be cautious. Mizuki poked her head in the room, seeming tentative. She was a fluid dynamics technician, aged thirty-four with a missing brother and a fiancé with a plaque in the cemetery after being executed by the Alliance. Everyone in this small apartment complex knew her as his "mother", though she seemed so awkward about it that he wasn't sure how long that would last.

"Hey, you," Mizuki said, a small smile curving her mouth as she leaned her head against the door. "Do you always sit in the dark?"

"The light is on," he said. A fact that was obvious to anyone who could see. Mizuki, however, said things like this often, as if she meant something entirely different. Sometimes she explained herself, sometimes she didn't, but the boy had learned to just stop trying to decipher what she really meant. It was a woman thing, according to Toshi, the aging thermal engineer/body guard who posed as his father. The boy had seen a few women and in his experience, not one had acted the least bit like the other so he'd just decided it was a Mizuki thing.

"It's so dim, though," she said, reaching over to turn on the light switch. "It'll hurt your eyes."

"I'm not reading," he said. Her hand stilled just below the switch, her index finger was still outstretched. Even in this light he could see her nails were jagged and bitten. Something had been going wrong with the Gundam again, he guessed. It was having a lot of problems lately. Dr. J said it was just the scientific process at work but some seemed to take it harder than others.

"I guess not," she said, her smile faltering a little as she let her hand drop to her side. It didn't stay there, though, and soon began to worry the edge of the doorframe. "It's unusual for you not to be reading," she said with a nervous smile, sticking out the tip of her tongue.

The boy shrugged. He supposed it was. He didn't want to read all the time, though, and sometimes it was better to just sit where he was and just be for a while. She glanced at him, then looked away, picking at the wood and bringing up small splinters. He had the feeling she wanted to say something. It probably wasn't anything important. Dr. J had said she was very professional so he trusted any critical information would be given to him right away. Since he had nothing pressing to do, he couldn't help but wonder what it was. Though he wasn't sure if he was going to find out. Her muscles were tense and she kept looking at everything in the room but him. What was she trying to avoid? Wouldn't it be better to just come out and say it?

"Are you busy?" she asked finally. Her face reddened a little. "I mean, you're not, obviously, but if you're sufficiently bored, would you like to…take a walk?"

"Okay," he said, standing and taking a second to stretch his legs. Her expression brightened immediately and the tension left her arms, as if she'd been holding her breath. The boy tried not to look at her too much, though he was fascinated by the sudden change. It was another Mizuki thing and she seemed to get embarrassed easily if she was caught at it.

"Really? Wow. I'm so relieved," she said as he scooped up the gun and checked to make sure the safety was on before putting it into the hem of his jeans and pulling his shirt over it. She had to back away to let him out of the room and did so lightly on the balls of her feet. She'd been a dancer once, he'd heard.

"You're kind of intimidating sometimes, you know? You look like a kid but you're so serious. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to my old professor."

Intimidating? Old professor? The boy wasn't sure what to think about that. Was he more serious than other children his age? Would people suspect that there was something different about him? He was officially home schooled and so far he'd tried to avoid people when he could, but what if they noticed? The boy sighed as he went to the closet to pull out his new blue coat that was not only comfortable and warm but designed to hide the bulge of a gun. It was efficient and he was beginning to appreciate that concept as time went on. Living here was not efficient. The Gundam was in a private spaceport three miles away and so, in effect was Dr. J. The other mechanics and technicians that worked on the project were spread liberally around the district. The closest technician was two blocks away and meeting, even coming to the spaceport at the same time, was frowned on. At least he got to see Dr. J everyday, if not in person then over the communications systems that were triply encrypted.

He pulled on his coat and looked over to see Mizuki in the shoe area, jamming her bare feet into white tennis shoes. She was just in short sleeves and thin cotton pants. The boy frowned. The solar panels in this sector were in the process of being repaired, and to conserve energy it was only about fifty degrees outside. Didn't she read the thermometer? He took her green coat off the hanger, rolling his eyes as a screw fell out and plunked to the ground. Another screw followed it. There must be a hole in the pocket. A quick search proved him right. The boy quickly emptied the pocket of five screws, a rubber hammer and a small missionary tract and transferred the screws and the tract to an upper pocket. The hammer he set on the table by the closet since Toshi had been looking for it for about a week.

"You should really stop stealing Toshi's hammer," the boy said, handing her the coat and putting on his own shoes as she shrugged it on. "He gets annoyed when it disappears."

"I will when Toshi starts keeping the lid of the toilet seat down," she said, bunching her hair up in the mirror and twisting it into a small knot at the nape of her neck. "Fake marriage isn't enough for me to put up with that."

"Why can't you just put it back down again?" the boy said, lacing his shoes tight. She gave him a look, pursing her lips before finally smiling.

"You'll find out one day," she said. "Or you'll be lonely for a long time."

It didn't make any sense to him at all. It wasn't like it took an extra effort to put the toilet seat down. All that was required was a slight push and letting gravity do the rest. Mizuki pushed open the door and he followed her out into the hallway. It was a small and poorly lit hall, but clean and with worn desks boasting silk flowers that were provided by a man upstairs. No sooner had Mizuki closed the door behind them then an old lady, whom everyone called Auntie, poked her head out of her room and asked where they were going.

"Just out for a walk with my son," said Mizuki, patting his shoulder and smiling broadly. Auntie looked at them, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she squinted.

"This late? They'll be hooligans."

"I'm prepared just in case things get rough. We'll fight them off together, right Satoshi?" she said, clenching her hand into a fist.

"Sure," said the boy, tempted to walk ahead without her. She was too loud and her voice fell flat on his ears. He was fairly sure that mothers didn't act like that but he'd never done an extensive study so it was hard to tell.

"Eh?" said Auntie. "You should just run away if that happens. It's not healthy for a woman to fight."

"It's not?" said Mizuki. The old woman shook her head.

"And he shouldn't be going out dressed like that either." Here, Auntie jabbed a gnarled finger in his direction. The boy had a sinking feeling.

"I'm fine," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He gave Mizuki a significant look. She was looking down at him, her mouth twisted down.

"Really?"

"Yes, he certainly needs to be bundled up more," said Auntie.

"No I don't," said the boy shortly. He knew where this was heading. It was heading where it always headed and he wasn't going to let it happen. Auntie smiled at him, a tight lipped expression that didn't hide her lack of teeth very well. One withered hand reached out and the boy tensed to back away but Mizuki's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He glanced up at her and saw the smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. She was enjoying this. The boy sighed, outwardly this time, but didn't move as Auntie's thin sandpapery fingers pinched his cheek.

"They're so cute when they're impudent. A much better quality in boys than girls, don't you think?" she said.

"Well I-" Mizuki started.

"Of course you wouldn't know, having only a boy. You're lucky though, a boy will do you good." Auntie nodded, patting the boy's cheek once before she straightened, pulling her shawl more securely around her bony shoulders. "Anyway, if you're going out, best not go out too long or too far. You never know when those rebels are going to be out causing trouble."

Mizuki tensed and the boy felt her fingers dig into the back of his jacket like she was looking for something grab on to. The boy stepped to the side a little and bumped into her, it was a gesture he'd seen a child do at the park and was meant, by that child anyway, to be affectionate. Maybe that would be enough to get Mizuki to focus. Anyone could be a spy and the smallest of twitches could be enough to give it all away.

"Back in my day we never had that problem," Auntie said, seemingly oblivious to Mizuki's darkening mood. "It's the rebels causing all the problems you hear about. Blowing up things and killing people. It's disgraceful."

"I want to go now," the boy said, pulling at Mizuki's sleeve.

"So you think the Alliance is better?" Maybe she'd wanted her statement to sound like a question but to the boy it sounded openly hostile. This was irritating. He couldn't wait until he was old enough to not need the accompaniment of "parents". Auntie sniffed.

"Peace can only be achieved through peace," said the old woman stiffly, sounding as if she was quoting something. "Violence will only beget violence." She lifted her head a little. "And those that that engage in it deserve a sticky end."

"Listen-," Mizuki all but snarled.

"I want to _go_," the boy said, stamping his foot down on hers, hard, grinding down his heel but careful not to break the fragile bones.

"OW! Shit!" Mizuki shoved him away impulsively and raised her hand as if she were going to backhand him. The boy hoped she didn't. That would leave a mark and he didn't think a normal child would have the reflexes to duck. In a moment, though, Mizuki relaxed, resting her foot gingerly on the ground and giving him a strange half smile.

"I'm sorry, Auntie," she said. "A good friend of mine died because of the Alliance and I don't think I've gotten over it quite yet."

"Understandable," said Auntie, unfazed. "But you shouldn't look to the rebels for revenge. They couldn't find their bottom with both hands." She cackled at that and the boy walked toward the elevator, leaving Mizuki to make their goodbyes. Auntie was a little annoying sometimes but she was smart, she could see the truth it seemed most of the 'heart on their sleeves' rebels were denying. A single, unified, rebellion didn't exist. Instead the colonies were just dotted with small factions, each doing their own thing. The only rebel group with any organization the boy had seen was this one, but maybe that was because there was financial backing. He wasn't entirely sure on the details yet, a situation he was going to rectify as soon as he got the Gundam.

The boy pressed the down button and listened to the elevators groaning reply as it started up. It had almost reached their floor by the time Mizuki hobbled up to him. She was still smiling but it wasn't really happy. There were so many shades of emotions, the boy was beginning to realize. Still she didn't say anything until they were in the small, smelly elevator and it started it's clunky way down. They had better do maintenance on it soon, the boy thought, or there would be a tragedy. A stupid tragedy too, since it would be completely avoidable.

"I shouldn't have said that," she said after a while. The boy said nothing, instead shoving his hands in his pockets and watching the numbers fall on the elevator's digital readout. Someone had stuck a large piece of graying bubblegum up there, crammed underneath the ledge. Why did people do that, he wondered. It wasn't as if there wasn't a trash can on every floor. In fact Mr. Mikashi on floor 11 had bolted the trash cans right next to the elevator because he got tired of seeing all the trash people left.

"I just get so mad!" Mizuki said, furiously pulling back her hair and tying it with an elastic band, as if she needed something to do with her hands. "So many people are dying because they're fighting for people like her and it's just…it's just…" She glared at him, her hands now pulled into sharp fists. "Doesn't it just piss you off?"

The boy thought a moment. He was tempted to say that if he got angry at every stupid thing someone said or did, he'd never stop. Auntie's words hadn't been stupid, though, and maybe she was right about the end.

"It's her opinion," he said with a shrug.

"Well she should change her attitude," Mizuki said.

"As long as she doesn't become a threat, I don't see why it matters," said the boy as the elevator settled on the first floor. He took a second to gauge the situation before continuing. "We're supposed to protect everyone on the colonies. Not just the people that agree." No sooner had he said it then the doors slid open. Thankfully, the lobby was empty except for an old arthritic cat who everyone fed but no one lay claim to. It lay sprawled in the center of the room, a pile of gray fur. The boy went over to it, waiting until it opened a yellow eye and gave him a baleful glare before he scratched it behind the ear. The cat's eye closed again and its tail thumped once or twice in mild irritation, but otherwise it didn't move.

Soon the boy realized that there was no sound of Mizuki's footsteps. Hadn't she followed him? Mildly alarmed, he looked around to find her leaning on the wall next to the elevator and staring out the small dingy window. The boy glanced out the window too and saw an empty street. She must be thinking about something. Finally her shoulders lifted and dropped in a heavy sigh.

"I can protect her and hate her at the same time, can't I?" she asked, cocking her head to the side and giving him a small smile. The boy shrugged. He wasn't sure why she wanted to waste her energy like that. Well it wasn't up to him to tell her how to think.

"Do you want to go now?" he asked, straightening. She nodded without looking at him and he held the door open for her as they went out. It was cold tonight, cold enough so that his breath clouded in front of him.

Being outside seemed to settle Mizuki. After a while she even reached up and pulled her hair from its ponytail and the curls fell against her neck. She must have had a parent that wasn't Asian, the boy thought. He wondered what her parents were like, if they were even still alive. He never really thought about adults having parents, though of course they did. The boy tried not to think about it too much. There were other things to think about. For instance, he'd been here for three weeks now and had heard nothing about how he was going to compete for the Gundam. He hadn't even had time to examine it, yet, since Dr. J always had him busy at the computer, learning programming and operating systems. He liked it, in a way. Programming made sense. These lines of code made this specific thing happen. It was something he could get his head around and found almost calming in a way. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little disconnected from his mission somehow, as if he was just waiting for something to happen.

Mizuki left the main sidewalk and onto a narrow white walkway that lead up a small hill in a gentle curve. This was the way to the playground and the boy wondered why they were going in that direction. Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe Mizuki just wanted a better view. The playground sat at the top of the hill, ringed by trees. There was a sandbox and a swing set, a few slides and a merry-go-round. A single street lamp stood near the playground as if it was guarding it, casting the metal in a harsh white light.

"Roger loved playgrounds," Mizuki said in a strange voice that seemed happy and sad at the same time. That was her fiancé, the boy knew. Though Roger was just a codename, his hands were apparently so deep in everything, they couldn't even reveal his identity now. The boy wondered if he even had one.

"He built one, you know? On our home colony. Before he came along, the kids just had empty lots to play around in." She wandered over to the swings and flopped on one which squeaked a little under her sudden weight. The boy watched her. Was that right for an adult to want to swing? He wasn't sure. On the other hand, adults seemed to get away with childish things more often than a child could get away with adult things. It was annoying. Everything would be so much more efficient if he could just get done what he needed to get done without all the adults looking at him like he was some abnormality.

"Come on," Mizuki said, pushing herself up on the swing. "Have some fun! All that seriousness isn't good for a kid your age."

"Hn," the boy said, but he sat on a swing anyway and pushed off. It was almost too cold to swing. The wind stung his nose as he came up but enough exercise and he would be warm soon enough.

"So tell me about yourself, if you can," Mizuki said, swinging herself. It was strange to see an adult doing something like that so casually. "Do you have any family? Friends? A name to go with your good looks?"

"No," said the boy, not about to go into detail. Although he was pretty sure Mizuki was on his side, it never hurt to be cautious. Also there simply wasn't much more to tell.

"Not even a name, huh?" She spoke as if she didn't believe him. "Well we'll have to give you one."

"Are names really that important?" As soon as he asked, he really wanted to know. Names were good for documentation purposes, he guessed, record keeping, neither of which he wanted to be a part of. Names could be changed and altered easily. They were a disguise of their own. Still, people seemed to be attached to them as if they were a lifeline. A name _meant _something but the boy couldn't guess what.

"I guess not," Mizuki said. The boy frowned, disappointed. It was a typical response. Either she wasn't sure or she didn't want to answer. It was just a simple question. He would have liked to have known what she thought. How could he understand people if no one ever explained anything to him? Mizuki dragged her feet in the dirt, bringing herself to a stop. She didn't seem as if she was going to get up right away so the boy kept swinging, aware of her eyes on him. She liked to stare at him a lot and he wondered why.

"I guess it's easy in a way," she said, looking at some point beyond him. "You have no attachments, nothing to be taken away and shot."

No. He usually seemed to have to get rid of attachments himself. He continued to swing, pushing his legs back and forth in the simple, repetitive action. Thoughts and memories drifted through his mind, faces whose details he'd long forgotten. It was pointless to try and remember the past. There was nothing there that would help him. Still he let the memories go where they wanted, vaguely analyzing what he'd done wrong and how he could have improved his performance.

"Hello?" Mizuki said. The boy blinked, startled out of his reverie. Mizuki was on her phone, wrinkles forming on her forehead as someone talked. The boy jumped from the swing, landing easily and straightened his jacket, his palm brushing over the gun that was tucked against his side.

"Now?" she said, standing as well and scrubbing a free hand through her hair. "Well it's late. Why so soon?" She glanced at the boy. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited patiently. A big dog barked close by and the boy titled his head to the sound. He could just hear footsteps coming closer to where they were and gave Mizuki a look, nodding toward the nose. She acknowledged she had heard with a nod of her own.

"All right," she said into the phone. "We might have visitors. What should I bring?" She was asking for a code to get into the private spaceport. It was late for them to be going there. Though it didn't sound like an emergency. How strange. The boy moved past her to the line of the trees that blocked the interlopers from sight. It was a man, the leash of a huge dog in one hand while his other clutched the tiny fingers of a child. It was a little girl, the boy guessed, by the pink fluffy ball on top of her winter hat.

"Papa," the girl said, her fingers twitching in his large hand. The man stopped and the boy tensed, slipping his hand under his coat to wrap his hand around the grip, warmed by his body heat. The man pulled the leash around his wrist and crouched. The girl came around to stand at his back, but stopped and reached into her puffy coat for something. He slowly pulled the gun anyway, aiming for her head and pushing the safety off. Did she see him? Was she just acting innocent? A pair of cotton mittens appeared in her hands. Suddenly she startled as if she noticed him and he quickly put the gun behind his back.

"Papa, there's a boy in the bushes!" she said, a little lisp in her voice.

"That's nice, Ariko, but we have to get home before Mama gets worried," he said without even looking around.

"All right. Bye bye!" She waved at him, then pulled on her mittens and put her arms around her father's neck. He reached behind him as he stood to adjust her then continued down the road. The girl turned her head to watch the boy a bit longer, then turned back around again. "His Mommy lets him stay out a long time."

"Satoshi…" Mizuki whispered, her eyes wide. She was looking at him like she had never seen him before. He'd seen that look, though not often and when they did they were usually dead afterwards. He pushed the safety back on and put the gun in his jeans once more.

"She was a concern," he said, pulling his jacket over it.

"She couldn't have been older than four!" Mizuki hissed. The boy sighed inwardly. This was going to be a problem. Maybe a big problem. It was such a pain.

"I was that age, too," he said, irritated that he had to give away that much. "It was just too much of a coincidence."

"You are something else," she said, folding her arms and looking away. He could see her jaw working as she ground her teeth together. This wasn't a good sign. She was part of the core team of specialists working on the Gundam.

"If she had a gun, what would you think?" he said. Why didn't she understand? It wasn't that difficult a concept. Mizuki didn't say anything for a while, then sighed, shoulders slumping and turned toward him.

"Well she didn't," said the woman. "This is a peaceful place; the chaos in the other colonies hasn't touched this one yet."

"That doesn't mean it won't," the boy said. There were no truly peaceful places in the boy's experience. There was always someone out there, looking at you through the sights of a rifle. There was always a bomb waiting to go off, always someone waiting to whisper those words which would throw the entire mission into jeopardy.

"That doesn't mean it will," she said right back. Then she reached out and before he could move back, ruffled his hair. "You need to learn to relax, kiddo. Your entire life doesn't need to be a battlefield."

The words struck him oddly, like words in a book he'd only just read. His entire life... Mizuki smiled and started downhill, walking smoothly as if she'd never been mad at him. He followed her wordlessly. Life had always been a fight or getting ready for one. There had always been something to set up, someone to kill. The boy couldn't imagine how it could be any different. Was it even possible? He tried to remember sometime when it was different, sometime when he wasn't thinking five steps ahead, to outwit an enemy or plan the next attack.

As they reached the bottom of the hill, he heard the distant bark of a dog. He glanced down the hill but didn't see a sign of the little girl's passing. Had she even seen a gun before, he wondered. Did she know how short her life had almost become? Did she even know how to hold a gun? He recalled her in his mind's eye, rounded cheeks, bright eyes, small and soft, an easy target.

The boy found himself staring at his hand and shook his head, there was no time for this. He caught up to Mizuki who was standing on the corner of the sidewalk, waiting impatiently. An old Safari MK puttered into view, one headlight considerably dimmer than the other, rumbling uncertainly in the otherwise quiet streets. It was Toshi's baby, or so he'd said. A fixer-upper after a mechanic's heart. There was a sort of genius to riding around in a car like that. Not many would look twice, or think it would be the kind of car belonging to some secret organization.

"So are you ready, boy?" Toshi said as the boy climbed into the back seat. It smelled like gasoline and a rusted old toolbox rested on the floor next to him. The boy shut the door, and felt the vibration of the engine purr against his legs as the car once again started down the street.

"Ready for what?"

"They're going to start the tests," Mizuki said darkly. The boy's heart fluttered. The tests. They must be talking about the competition for Wing, it was actually starting. The boy stared out the window, watching the light poles pass. He hadn't been told anything about the tests, even what they were. Maybe they would test him at the controls of a mobile suit? The thought popped into his head, wild and brilliant but he quickly shot it down. He hadn't been trained for that, other than a few simulations, and any kind of mobile suit testing would certainly draw attention. What then?

He ran scenarios through his mind, tests he might encounter and how he could overcome them. However there were too many things he didn't know, too many variables. The more he thought about it the more his heartbeat seemed to accelerate as if he was somehow anxious. The boy closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. There was nothing to worry about. Even if he didn't know what the tests even were, he knew who he was up against. He tried to turn his mind to what he knew of Hana. Since Tatsu was dead and Domo could hardly walk let alone pilot a Gundam, she was the only option. Unless, of course there was some unknown fourth that he wasn't aware of. The boy tucked that possibility in the back of his mind and focused on Hana.

And came up surprisingly short. He knew she was a fencer and factored that in, also seemed to have some skill with computers and accessing and overriding data from the main computer of the satellite anyway. He knew that she seemed to have a deeper emotional bond with Tatsu than with Domo and seemingly none with Mitsuyo, but otherwise he wasn't sure. He'd spent so much energy training and trying to avoid being stabbed by needles that he hadn't bothered to find out more about her. Well, it shouldn't matter. She was more emotionally unstable than he was and obviously not a good choice for the Gundam, he would just have to prove himself, that was all.

All too soon they arrived at the base. Since the property was labeled as a space-port, private or not, there were some high class shuttles that were kept here, seats on which were sold to high paying executives who wanted to get where they were going and not have to deal with the crowded hassle of the main space port. Tonight it seemed as if every executive in the colony had bought a seat. The boy hadn't seen the small parking lot this full. Maybe someone important was coming in or leaving.

"Like rats jumping ship," Toshi muttered. The boy glanced at him, not sure what he meant. He knew what a rat was, of course, both the animal and the insult, but why would rats be on a ship? And why would they jump off it? Ships went on the ocean, didn't they? And the ocean was very wide and very deep so if they did jump off they'd have a slim chance of surviving.

"What does that even mean?" Mizuki said.

"It's an old earth term," Toshi said. "Implying that vile rodents manage to sniff out disaster and escape before it strikes."

"It's a stupid expression," said Mizuki. "Disaster doesn't have a smell."

"You just don't like it because you're a purist," Toshi said.

"Of course I am! Earth for Earth, colonies for the colonies."

"It isn't any worse than the one about cats being able to sense impending traffic congestion."

"Cats are very sensitive creatures!"

"Ha!"

The boy rolled his eyes and tried to ignore their bickering. Whether or not rats jumping ship was a stupid expression, Toshi had said it for a reason. Was something going on? Or was it just a hunch? The boy tried to put it out of his mind. He couldn't afford to concentrate on something that might or might not happen, especially when he didn't know any of the details. He had to concentrate on the task ahead… Whatever that was. They parked near the back, Toshi grumbling the entire way and then walked together up to the glass doors of the spaceport. It was essential for their cover that they look like a family to anyone who might spot them, even this late at night. Still, the boy wished he were old enough to go into a place like this alone without raising any eyebrows. He was tired on having to rely on others for cover.

The guard who stood entrance at the doors, both for show and a first warning if something should go wrong, nodded at them and opened the door for them as they went through. A simple gesture and one that meant "All clear". Businessmen and women were arranged in the lobby, talking quietly amongst themselves or reading newspapers with a headline proclaiming "Rising Antagonism!" in bold letters. Outside a shuttle waited, attendants moving around it, basked in floodlights, as they prepared the vehicle for space travel.

They arrived at the luggage claims room and the secretary, a fierce looking man, looked up from his romance novel and waved to them before pushing the button under his desk that would open the door hidden behind a stack of permanently lost luggage.

"Is there going to be an insurrection in this colony?" the boy asked, once they were on the narrow stairwell that lead to the heart of the operation.

"We would have heard something, right?" Mizuki said, but looked at Toshi anyway. He worked as a spy in some ways, the boy knew, but he'd never been filled in on the details. If it wasn't something Dr. J thought he needed to know then the boy wouldn't press, but if information was given freely the boy was going to get all that he could.

"Who knows?" said Toshi as they reached the bottom of the stairwell and he tapped in the security code for the door. "There's fuel seething under the surface just waiting for a match flipped in just the right direction, but this colony is under such tight control that anything that might flare up will be smashed back down again." He looked disgusted as he said this, though because of the rebellion or the alliance, the boy wasn't sure. Personally, the boy was a little annoyed at the rebellion. If they stirred up anything, there would be an increased risk that the Gundam would be found in the crackdown. The best way for the Gundam to remain safe was that this colony continued in peace.

The lock accepted the code and the door slid open. Though the boy could walk ahead, he stayed with Toshi and Mizuki anyway as they went down the corridor. They came to the hangar where the two technicians ruffled his hair and wished him good luck and then walked in. For a moment, the boy saw the head and torso of wing, slumped over, one arm hanging to the ground, stuck to the wall with strong magnets. Like a puppet, ready to be animated. The doors closed and the boy stared, fighting the impulse to go in and see the Gundam once more. It would be a waste of time. He was supposed to meet Dr. J now. It wasn't as if staring at it would give him any insight to the tests ahead.

"Ah, there you are," said Dr. J nearby. The boy turned his head and saw the scientist standing in the hallway a few feet away, grinning. He clicked his metallic hand repeatedly, whether out of habit or a gesture of some emotion the boy couldn't guess. "I hope you've gotten your rest these past few days," Dr. J said as the boy came up to him.

"It was sufficient," the boy said. Dr. J started down the hall and the boy fell into step easily beside him, wondering where they were going. "Why are we starting the testing now?" Not that the boy minded really. It was just strange that they would start something major at night like this, unless it was to be some sort of mission.

"Who knows," said the scientist as the turned into a hall the boy had rarely been down. There were a few unused rooms here, a storage shed of backup equipment and a hidden escape exit at the end that wound up behind some shrubbery near an old canning factory. "I didn't have a say in when it was, but I suspect someone who did."

They came to a door at the end of the hall and Dr. J gestured that he should go first. The boy entered cautiously but there was nothing alarming in the room. Two treadmills stood side by side. A man that the boy had never seen before was standing in the middle of the room, writing something on a clipboard. He looked up for a moment, regarding the boy through thick glasses before sniffing and looking back at his work. Hana was there, too, standing with one of the scientists the boy recognized from the satellite. She had cut her hair but the edges were ragged and brushed against her chin. She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. He'd never seen her bare arms before but wasn't surprised to find them roped with a subtle layer of muscle. They were pale, too and he could see the red and pale pink spots where needles had pierced her skin repeatedly. There was another needle in her now. She watched the fluid flow inside her, her expression blank. The scientist with her muttered something, but to low for the boy to hear.

"How is Domo?" he asked, the name strange on his lips even though it had only been a few months. Her spine stiffened but she didn't turn to look at him. The boy let it go, and since it looked like they would be doing running of some kind, began to stretch. He noticed the man with the clipboard watching him intently and watched him back out of the corner of his eye.

"The test will commence in three minutes," the man with the clipboard said. As if on cue, Dr. J and one of his assistants stepped forward, bringing with them a tray with an array of electrodes attached to a machine by long thin wires that made it look like some strange species of squid. The boy sighed inwardly. He hated electrodes. He hated the glue they were stuck to his skin with that still felt tacky days afterwards and the beeping of the machine made something deep inside of him twitch. Still he stood patiently while the doctor and his assistant attached him. In the reflection of the mirror he could see Hana getting the same treatment by two doctors he only vaguely recognized. They were part of Mitsuyo's personal team so the boy would bet that man was around here somewhere.

After they were done, the boy got on the treadmill, sighing again as the wires tangled and the electrodes pulled. This was going to be very annoying. What were they monitoring for anyway?

"You may choose your own setting," the man with the clipboard said. "Water will be provided." With that he left the room, the other scientists and assistants followed him leaving the boy and Hana alone. He wanted to say something to her, but he wasn't sure what. He wondered if he'd missed her in some way, he wouldn't discount it, but really he couldn't afford to miss anyone. He couldn't afford to feel sorry for anyone. Instead he concentrated on the treadmill, seeing the options before first selecting a fairly slow speed to warm himself up but would edge up to something faster yet not too strenuous. He wasn't sure if this was a speed test or an endurance test and until he knew it was wise not to exhaust himself. Hana started at a faster pace and the boy fought the urge to match up with her. He had to show them what he could do, not what he thought Hana could do. He had to win Wing on his own merit.

* * *

It was near morning. 2:20, he thought, or somewhere close. They had been running for about six hours. Hana had kept a steady pace throughout and so had he. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it wasn't wise. That if he kept this up he would be in pain by the time everything was finished, but he couldn't let himself slow down. As it was every time he glanced at the used water bottles in the bin on his side of the room, he tried not to cringe. He needed it, he knew. His body needed to be kept hydrated. There were only five bottles in there, would soon be six and less then he really should be drinking. But Hana had only gone through two bottles and hadn't slowed down at all. The only sign of her effort was a scattering of perspiration at her temples. He wanted to tell himself it was all the medication…but what if it was something more than that? What if she'd found a new method of training that he wasn't aware of. Maybe he really couldn't compare to her after all.

The boy mentally shook his head of that thought. There was no time or place for doubt. He would prove his worth. He would. He had to. If she got the Gundam, there was no predicting what she would use it for. The colonies needed peace not some revenge driven madman or a girl would only be a puppet for Mitsuyo's wishes. He was the only one he trusted to do the job right and the only one Dr. J trusted. The treadmill began to slow. The boy blinked, startled and checked the settings. The colored bar that indicated the speed was slowly falling. An error with the system maybe? He glanced up at the window and only saw himself glancing back. There was no telling if anyone was even back there. What he did see, though was that Hana's expression had changed. The impassive mask had dropped and her forehead was furrowed as she looked at her treadmill to. She was slowing down as well. Was there something going wrong with the electrical system? Were they being infiltrated? Under attack? Or was this simply part of the test?

As soon as the treadmill stopped the door opened and Dr. J and the other scientists came in. The boy stood still as Dr. J's assistant worked to take the electrodes. One of them stuck to his temple was particularly hard to get off and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. One day he'd no longer have to be stuck with these things. There had to be a day past tests and hospital visits, right?

"Come on," the assistant said. The boy stepped off the treadmill, his legs twinging a bit in protest, then he followed them through a door he hadn't been in yet which lead to a curved narrow hallway with more doors leading off of it. He glanced around, trying to get a sense of where they were and what the purpose of these rooms were but without looking inside, it was impossible. They came to a door near the end of the hall which looked no different from any of the other doors and Dr. J pressed a digit of his claw into the access panel then swung the door open. It was a white room, a single domed light on the ceiling with no sign of a switch.

The assistant and Dr. J stepped aside and the boy figured he was supposed to enter. He stopped at the threshold automatically, taking in the room though there was nothing to take in, not even an access panel on the inside. If anything happened he would be stuck. It worried him. The heavy claw lay on his shoulder. It was a thing of metal and screws, machinery vibrating just below the surface.

"Don't worry. I have no doubt that you'll succeed."

The boy blinked, the words filling his head. He nodded in acknowledgment that he'd heard and stepped into the room. The door shut behind him and, after a moment he turned and absently ran his fingers over the edge but could find no seam to work his fingers into. That didn't mean this room was inescapable. No room was. It was only a matter of finding the weakness. He wasn't in the mood for finding weakness right now, though and instead paced the room, continuing to cool down his muscles until he felt relaxed enough, then sitting against the cool metallic wall.

Time passed slowly. The room must have been soundproofed or something because he couldn't hear anything except his own breathing. The silence in the room pressed against his ears and he stared at a spot on the wall just for something to focus on. Dr. J trusted that he could win. Whether he was basing this on evidence or just pure hope, the boy wasn't sure. Mizuki didn't seem to doubt it either, nor Toshi for that matter. The only people who never took him seriously, it seemed, were the people who didn't know him. They thought that he was just a kid, sometimes a creepy looking kid… It was convenient, he supposed, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be seen as something in between. What was in between any way? He pushed those thoughts around for a while, examining them, but they yielded nothing other than questions. It was frustrating and soon he was bored out of his mind.

So he set to the problem of breaking out. They couldn't possibly want him to stay in here. The boy could see no purpose to that at all. Anyway it was a sufficiently difficult problem that kept him occupied for the better part of two hours. But in the end with the help of some shoelaces, easily bendable paper clips he kept in his pockets and a few crossed wires, the door was easily pushed open. There was no one in the long hallway and, figuring he was supposed to keep out of sight as long as possible, the boy kept close to the wall, ducking in shadowed doorways when he heard the approach of footsteps.

Once he reached the doorway of the hall way he knew, however, he had to pause. He knew there were cameras there and that they were almost impossible to dodge. Someone would see him go. He could meddle with them but that might compromise the security of the whole complex. Maybe he wasn't supposed to have left at all. But that was stupid. What would that prove? Annoyed by the uncertainty, the boy stepped into the familiar hall way, knowing the cameras watched his every movement but doing his best to move quietly. He thought perhaps first to go to Dr. J's office, but the scientist wasn't there, just one of his bony, nosy assistants who the boy wasn't fond of. Maybe the goal was the hangar. It could be some kind of test to see who could reach the Gundam first.

The hangar was mostly empty when he got there. The technicians usually worked in shifts, but they were always understaffed and no one wanted to work the late hours. Still a pair of women were standing by the beginnings of a gigantic foot and had their heads together as they read a schematic. After some searching he found Toshi and Mizuki in the tool room, sorting through data printouts and picking at a meal from a local tempura place. They looked up, surprised to see him.

"I thought you were in isolation," Toshi said, scratching his graying beard with the end of a chopstick.

"Isolation?" Was he really supposed to have stayed back in the room? "What for?"

"Some kind of psychological evaluation, I thought," Toshi said. Mizuki elbowed him sharply.

"You're not supposed to tell him any details!" she said in a hushed voice, glancing above the boy's head where he knew the security camera was. It was too late for that. Toshi had already spoken and they would know where he was anyway if they looked at the cameras he hadn't been able to avoid.

"Well I suppose it doesn't matter right now," Toshi said, waving a hand. "I've no doubt you escaped somehow and since you obviously didn't know the test they can hardly blame you for cheating. Come in and have some tempura." He smiled. "We also have some tasty data if you're interested."

"Hn."

Since Toshi seemed to think it was all right, the boy supposed it was. Mizuki seemed a little reluctant at first but soon they were all three lost in pouring over debug streams of numbers and letters and codes that the complicated nervous system of the Gundam threw out at them. The boy didn't understand all of it but the two helped him patiently if he asked. He was familiar with enough of it, though, to puzzle out what it meant himself. Toshi eventually gave him a pen and he began to mark the failure codes where the gundam's computer hadn't responded according to the specification. There seemed to be a lot of them.

"The more complex the system the more bugs you have to work out," Toshi said. "But we'll get everything straightened out soon enough."

"I still think someone is planting viruses on purpose," aid Mizuki, snatching another shrimp. "We've lost two whole micronetworks. We can't keep buying new chips."

"You see conspiracies everywhere you look," said Toshi, sounding amused as he took the last bit of shrimp tempura before she could. He offered it to the boy who shook his head. He had all ready had enough tempura.

"And you don't look enough," said Mizuki, jabbing her chopsticks in his direction. Toshi leaned back and gave her a mildly affronted look. The boy had to agree with Mizuki though. You couldn't be too careful. Was there a spy among the technicians? If so, from where? Was someone else coming in from the outside somehow and meddling with the data? The boy didn't have enough information to figure out either way.

"You're not just going to let it go, are you?" he asked Toshi, since he had the feeling Mizuki wouldn't. "Someone should look into it."

"No I won't and yes someone should," Toshi gave him an amused smile. "But that someone won't be you."

The boy straightened a little, at first an annoyed but soon seeing the wisdom of it. It would take him to long to understand the whole situation and he had no experience in the finding of spies. Anyway the Gundam came first.

"You'd better get back and get some sleep," said Mizuki. "I think there are probably more tests for you. Not that I know for sure, of course." She looked determinedly at the sheets of data. The boy smiled a little and stood. Mizuki slipped him a few folded pieces of the sheet they had been looking at.

"Do your best," she said. "And you-" she said to Toshi as the boy was leaving the room. "Stop making fun of me. It's important to be cautious."

"Well you don't have to go around thinking everyone is out to get you. Some people like you, you know, even if they are glad not to be 'married' to you anymore."

"The feeling is mutual," Mizuki said. The boy was out of the room and down the hall when the words hit him. Not married. That meant that they were no longer his cover parents. It was good that way. He resumed walking. It was just a cover. He hadn't even lived long with them that way but somehow…somehow it still felt strange. As if they should have told him. As if something was missing.

The boy gave himself a mental shake and focused on sneaking past what cameras he could and slipping back into his room. The light seemed brighter now and he rested on the warm floor in the far corner of the room and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. To keep his mind occupied he stared at the sheets Mizuki had given him. He pretended he was the Gundam, the data streaming through his head a living thing. And just like the Gundam, as soon as he hit the snarls, the broken bits of pattern, he lost the flow and was pulled back into the bright room. The boy tried to start over but couldn't seem to concentrate. Instead he stared up at the ceiling and let his mind drift to the view that had been outside his window, the colony sweeping below full of life and families and one little girl with a pink puff ball on her hat that was going to see her mother.

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own 'em, never will

Dedicated to my twinnie as usual cuz she rocks my socks. Belated b-day pressie until I can get her stupid keychain sent…

Also enormous thanks to West Side. T_T I LOVE YOU, MAN!

And the great folks at Safehousing

And whoever still bothers to read this, thanks to you as well! Just so you know, I've finished the arc! Not here but there are two more chapters written, just need to be beta'd and more after that! Child's Eyes will get done! Believe it!

Night Mare


	24. Wing Gundam: Part II

The micronetwork glimmered just under his fingers, fine threads of gossamer fiberoptic strands spread out like the complex web of an intelligent spider. He held them gently apart as Mike gently screwed a tiny controller card in among the nest of cables. The magnifying goggles were so high powered the boy could see the tiny Z etched in into the controller card's surface marking it as the latest and greatest in Alliance Military technology, so he'd been told. Everyone seemed to be amused by it, but the boy couldn't help but think about how much trouble had gone into capturing this piece of technology.

"Now," Mike said, putting the screwdriver carefully back into the special compartment in his belt. "We get to attach all these pretty little wires to the controller." He produced two small tweezers and handed one to the boy. "Try not to press to hard or you'll bend something. The wires have colored bands right at the end, do you see them?" When the boy nodded, he continued. "Now ideally there'd be matching colors on the controller too but this one is refurbished so we don't have that luxury. Just remember, red, green, black, right to left."

"I understand," the boy said, he leaned back to wipe a beading of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then crouched over the open skull cap, switching on the tiny light on the top of the goggles so he could better see what he was doing. He should leave after this. He'd been out of his room too long and they could come and check on him. It had been three days since they had first started the tests. He supposed the scientists had wanted the timing of the tests to seem random but the boy had been able to discern a pattern. Three tests spaced out in three half hour intervals, followed by a two hour wait, followed by a six hour wait that seemed to last through dinner time and followed by an eight hour test that went through the night. Right now they were about four and a half hours into the six hour cycle.

"Oh, this is going to be so great," Mike was said, putting the last little cable into its slot and straightening. The boy was still working on his second. The cables were proving difficult to maneuver. "You'll have access to live broadcast feeds, ultra secure communication channels to the home base, maps of the area, infrared, tracking systems, not to mention with this little betty you can connect to the interspace linkup, linkup access anywhere on Earth, the whole Beluga."

"Beluga?" the boy said, working the last wire into it's place. He cocked his head, listening for the soft click, then straightened, pushing the goggles up to rest on his forehead and rubbing briefly at his eyes.

"You know, whale, giant fish thing that lives in the ocean." Mike spread his arms as if indicating the size. The boy raised an eyebrow at him. Mike was short, for an adult, and rough looking with more dark hair thatching his arms than seemed to be on his head. Despite his name and his appearance he had been born and raised on one of the larger colonies in the L1 cluster and spoke more Japanese than he did German which was supposedly his parent's language. How his being here was covert at all, the boy didn't know, but then it wasn't his concern right now.

"Now let's see if this works," he waved a big hand at the technician on the ground controls, indicating they should turn on the power.

"A whale is a mammal," the boy said absently as the Gundam hummed to life. He could feel the vibrations of the machinery on the floor of the lift. He rested his fingertips against the outer plating of the Gundam's head, feeling it there too, like a pulse without a beat.

"Pretty sure it's a fish," Mike said, rubbing at his blocky chin with the side of his finger. The fiberoptics began to glow, feeding little blue beads of energy into the controller card. "Nice, nice," Mike said, nodding. Then he called over his shoulder: "Anything?"

"Seems to be integrating fine," replied the technician from the ground.

"Won't know for sure until we do a trial run." He grinned at the boy. "Bet you're looking forward to that, eh?"

The boy shrugged. He was in a way but there were more important things to concentrate on now. Just then the hanger door opened with a bang and the boy looked down to see Mizuki bursting in, sliding a little in her haste, out of breath. He tensed. Under attack or...?

"F…f…" she panted, then looked up. "Phase II, good time to start phase II."

That meant that someone was coming. Someone who should not see him up there. Mike cursed and hit the switch that would pull the lift from the Gundam and lower it. The lift moved with agonizing slowness and the boy tapped his fingers impatiently against the railing, considering the probability of breaking his leg if he jumped. At the moment it was still pretty high.

"How much time we got?" said Mike. Mizuki looked over her shoulder and hesitated. Cutting it too close in other words. The boy waited until he thought he could make it and jumped, Mike and Mizuki protesting even as he was in midair, he landed and stumbled, tucking himself into a roll to reduce the impact then, lacking a place to sufficiently hide in the time he was given, ducked behind Wing's drooping arm.

The door opened again. The boy rested his head back against the arm and controlled his breathing to keep it quiet. It was doubtful that whoever had arrived could hear him, but it was good practice.

"Phase II?" that was Dr. J. The boy debated the possibility of coming out of hiding but quickly decided against it. He wasn't sure if this was something that the doctor would approve of. "And just what is this phase II?"

"Um…" Mizuki faltered. "The second phase?" The boy rolled his eyes. He was glad she was a technician. There was silence then and the boy wished he could risk a look and see his expression, but if he could see Dr. J than Dr. J might be able to see him. There was no telling his range or ability of vision with those optical implants.

"Indeed," was all Dr. J said. The boy heard the uneven clicking of his gait as he came closer. There was a whrr from above as the lift lowered, giving him more cover. "How are things going?"

"Well we have all the controllers in place. Now they just need to be integrated into the system," Mike said. There was a soft clank as he closed the gate of the lift railing. "But we still have the virus problem."

There was a virus problem? What kind of virus problem? The boy looked over his shoulder, unconsciously glancing to where Mike would be and instead saw the smooth metal plating of the Gundam. They should have told him if there was a virus problem. What if it wasn't just a problem? What if it was someone hacking into the system? The boy hated not knowing-- and not being kept informed was somehow even worse. But it wasn't his Gundam, the boy told himself. It wasn't his _yet_, he corrected. So for now he would let it go.

"Howell and I are working on a solution," said Dr. J. "In the meantime, try to keep the system off line unless absolutely necessary."

Howell? The boy didn't know that Howell had such a high clearance level. Did he actually have access to the Gundam's computer? The thought unnerved the boy a little. The more people that had access to the system the more people could compromise it. But he had no reason to distrust Howell so for right now he would try not to worry about it.

"Mizuki," Dr. J said. "I've heard you've volunteered for the mission."

"Yes, sir," she said, sounding stiff. She was going on a mission? No one had said anything to him. Another twinge of irritation went through him but quickly dismissed it. After all, it wasn't as if Mizuki was part of his life anymore. She was just another technician.

"I didn't think you would. I know how strongly you feel about the rebels."

"Yes, sir."

"May I ask why?"

"Toshi is going, sir." There was quiet a moment. "He needs someone to watch his back, sensei." Her voice was quiet.

"I see. Well good luck. Don't forget to say goodbye to the boy before you go."

Say goodbye to him? Why was that important? He supposed it wasn't much of an effort but it didn't seem necessary.

"Yes, sir," Mizuki sounded relieved and the boy wasn't sure why. It wasn't important to understand, though and the boy brushed it away. He was running short of time. He heard Dr. J start to walk away, then stop when he was some distance across the room.

"Oh, and the boy has a test coming up in about ten minutes. Make sure he gets back to his room before then."

There was a small crash that sounded like Mike had dropped his tool belt. The boy blinked. Had Dr. J really been able to see him through the gundanium of the arm? Or had it just been a lucky guess? He wanted to ask, but if it was just a guess, he didn't want to blow his cover. Not that he thought Dr. J would particularly care, judging by the light tone he'd used when he'd said it, but it was good practice in any case.

"Isn't he already in his room?" Mizuki said, sounding a little stiff. Dr. J said nothing but the boy thought he heard him chuckle before the door closed with a thud behind him. The boy ducked out from under the arm. Mike had indeed dropped his tool belt and Mizuki was helping him pick up the scattered pieces. She looked up as the boy came nearer and greeted him with a small smile, though there was a worried furrow between her eyebrows.

"I guess you heard that," she said, fiddling with a small half moon wrench. "The rebellion here is getting heated and we…Toshi and I…have to stop it before it goes to far."

The boy frowned.

"You shouldn't speak so openly about it," he said. Even though everyone in this room might all ready know about it there was no telling who else could be listening. Dr. J had been vague enough about the rebels and the boy could have guessed the details himself.

"Oh, you're right." The smile got tighter and she stood, pocketing the wrench without seeming to think about it. He still hadn't decided whether she was just absent minded or a tool based kleptomaniac. "Well I…I guess this is goodbye." She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at him as if she wanted to say more. The boy didn't have time to listen. There were other more important things to worry about and saying goodbye was silly in any case.

"I need to set the cameras," he said, going to the computer terminal. The second time he had snuck out, Toshi had taught him how to use the computers from this room to set the cameras on a loop so that anyone watching would just see an empty corridor while he was making his way back to the room. The room camera was on loop now too, and anyone watching would think he was asleep. It wasn't the best situation and full of flaws but he hadn't had time to perfect it yet. The boy wasn't happy with it at all but right now he had to work with what he had. Mizuki had come to stand over his shoulder and was practically breathing down his neck as he typed in the commands and then double checked quickly to make sure they were correct.

"Will you be all right here?" she asked as he keyed in the final sequence, then jogged toward the hangar doors, then stood on tiptoes and peered cautiously out the small square windows to see if anyone was in the hall. "I mean, do you need anything?"

"No, why would I?" he said.

"I just thought…" she started. He looked at her and she blinked and hesitated, nervously pulling at her hair. A sort of half-smile twitched the corner of her lip and she shook her head. "Never mind."

The boy nodded to her because he thought he should and went out into the hall since the way was clear. He didn't understand her and he didn't think he ever would. Some things were just not meant to be understood he guessed.

It was always a risk, sneaking out like this, and any minute he expected to get caught as he moved rapidly but quietly down the corridor, socks whispering against the floor. It was stupid, really. He imagined this being some sort of capture scenario, but who in their right mind would repeatedly return back to their cell? Who in their right mind wouldn't try to escape? He just didn't get it sometimes. At least it was relatively easy. He would only get caught if they looked at the video too closely or he did something really stupid.

Reaching the door, he keyed in the pass code and slipped inside. Then began doing stretches and rolling his neck to ease the stress of peering into the cranium of a Gundam for the past half an hour. After a few minutes he heard a muffled beeping from outside and turned. Dr. J stood there along with the clipboard man who was flipping through a wad of paper. Dr. J cleared his throat and reached up a hand to tap his head. The boy stared at him, knowing it was a code but not getting it. Dr. J tapped his head again. The boy reached up and his heart jumped as he encountered the cool metal rims of the magnifying glasses. He whipped them off and held them behind him just as clipboard man looked up.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," said the boy. The man grunted and wrote something.

"Follow me," he said and began to walk away. The boy followed him, slipping the magnifying glasses to Dr. J on his way out. Though he'd been out of the room numerous times before, it was always relaxing not to have to sneak down the halls. Two techies that specialized in thruster control were chatting in the corner and seemed to want to wave at him as he passed but they checked themselves and just smiled and nodded. The boy didn't acknowledge them.

Clipboard man went down the side hall that dead ended into the larger break room. They hadn't been this down this hall before in the tests and the boy went through a mental inventory about what he knew was down this hall. Bathrooms, a storage closet for cleaning supplies and break room, monitored by two security cameras mounted on either side of the hall and a handful of others secreted away. Was there something significant about this hall that he'd missed? The clipboard man seemed to be heading directly for the break room, yet still the boy was surprised when he pushed open the door. The low busy sounds of conversation rolled into the hall. Clipboard man went inside and the boy followed him, smelling fried pork and his stomach knotted and grumbled at him. The clipboard man started toward the far end of the room and the boy followed him, finally noticing Hana sitting by herself at a small round table, underneath a malfunctioning fluorescent light that flickered continuously. She looked up as they came closer, her chin setting in a firm line. She looked pale in the light and there were dark smudges under her eyes. There was only one other plastic chair at the table and the boy sat down feeling a brief flash of annoyance as his feet didn't quite touch the floor.

"I'm sure it's been an arduous time for you," clipboard man said in a flat tone. "It certainly has been for us but rest assured the trial is almost over and the results should be very interesting indeed."

Hana was watching the man speak, her face blank but she picked at the table with ragged nails. Clipboard man took two thick booklets of paper from his clipboard and flopped them on the desk so that Hana startled. Something was wrong. So far she'd been pretty emotionless this entire time.

"You have twenty minutes to complete this," said clipboard man, reaching into one of his numerous pockets and scattering a handful of short pencils over the table. "Answer all the pertinent questions. Any mistakes or questions missed will result in a penalty."

"Twenty minutes?" Hana said, incredulously. Clipboard man nodded.

"Just so." He pushed back his sleeve and glanced at the thick black watch strapped to his wrist. After a few minutes he said: "You may begin."

The boy pulled the thick stack of paper to him and picked up a pencil, then flipped the booklet open. Complex math problems were scrawled across the page that the boy only barely understood the concepts of, let alone knew how to solve. Hana sucked in her breath through her teeth, but soon there was the rapid sharp sound of her pencil against the paper. The boy flipped through a few more sheets of glancing at something that looked like trigonometric equations. There was a catch. There had to be. Maybe a genius could solve all this math in 20 minutes but it didn't take a genius to pilot a Gundam. Five pages in there was a picture of a mobile suit, not a Gundam but it looked like a modified version of the leo he'd attempted to pilot once. The directions were to label the arrows that pointed at various parts of the suit. The boy filled in what he knew for sure and then went back and hazarded a guess what other parts might be called or do, drawing on what he knew of the Gundam.

The next page began with aerospace dynamics questions. The boy tried to read through them and the conversations around him seemed to grow louder not to mention the wonderful smell of the food. The break room was part of the challenge then, to be able to concentrate in the middle of all the noise. Knowing what it was didn't make it any easier and the boy lost his focus a few times as he tried to muddle through the thick questions. Which of these were pertinent? He couldn't even be sure. He could almost feel the minutes slipping by and frustration knotted in his throat. It was taking him too long. He needed to find the questions that mattered. That was the important part. But how could he know?

A group of people burst into laughter in a nearby table and a sharp snap startled him. Hana had broken her pencil. Her mouth was set in a thin line but she didn't look up as she grabbed a fresh pencil, tucked her head down and continued to work. After reviewing a few more questions he realized they all seemed to pertain to fighting in space, trajectory and thrust and fighting in four dimensions. But unless the Alliance had some really good space fighters he didn't know about, most of the battles would be ground based and since it wasn't feasible to use a Gundam to its full capacity on colony—at least without causing massive damage—they must be going to earth. The boy flipped through more of the pages and found a few of what he supposed were earth based fighting questions, as well as a simplified diagram of the Gundam where they were to label the different parts.

The work was intensive but not impossible, still the boy found himself looking up every few minutes to stare at the blank white wall of the lunch room to try and gauge how much time he had left. Hana had begun ruffling through the papers to, wrinkles forming on her forehead in what seemed to be desperate concentration. The boy looked away from her when she looked up and moved to the very last page, wondering if they'd put important questions there just so there was a greater chance of him missing it. There was only one question there at the very top of the page.

_Are you prepared to die? _

It was a simple enough question but the boy found himself blanking on the answer. What did they mean exactly? Was it some sort of subtle threat? Was it asking him if he was willing to risk his life for the mission or were they going to order him to commit suicide when it was over? Before he could think of anything, he heard the door to the lunch room open and the talking quiet down as footsteps rang out across the linoleum. Clipboard Man came up to the table and whipped the tests away.

"Follow me," he said shortly. Hana cursed under her breath as she stood and began to follow Clipboard man. Why were they leaving? All this mystery was more than a little annoying. With a sigh, the boy slid from the chair and followed them. A knot of techies clustered by the door grinned and waved at him, a man whose name he couldn't remember even gave him the thumbs up—as if they were all in on this somehow. That wasn't surprising and the boy couldn't be too annoyed. After all that had been the nature of the test.

As they came out into the hall he saw the door to the men's bathroom click closed as if someone had been watching them and ducked out of sight. The boy glanced at the door, tempted to go inside and find out who it might be, but quickly changed his mind. Even if someone did manage to get in that wasn't allowed, the boy wasn't doing anything worth spying on. Hana lifted her hand to her mouth and worried her nail with her teeth until he could see spots of blood underneath it.

* * *

The boy leaned against the wall in Dr. J's office, his arms folded against his chest as he watched the tail of the cat clock switch back and forth. It was an odd addition in the otherwise sterile environment. It had always been a curiosity to him but he'd never asked and Dr. J had never offered to explain. Hana sat in the room's only other chair, one leg folded tightly over the other, foot jiggling restlessly. Even her hands were busy, right hand gripping the ancient wooden arm of the chair while the other was at her mouth as she bit away at her nails. At Dr. J's desk, Clipboard man rustled through the test, occasionally stopping to scribble notes onto the paper at his elbow. The boy wasn't worried. He hadn't passed but he was sure Hana hadn't passed either so at least they were more or less even.

"Well then," said Clipboard man finally. Hana straightened and the boy unfolded his arms to stand straight. Even though he wasn't worried, anticipation knotted his stomach. "It took you quite a while to catch on, Mitsuyo-san," he said, looking at Hana. "But I have to say you are mathematically brilliant."

"Thank you, sir," Hana said, threading her fingers together and hooking them around her knee.

"Were you self taught?"

"Father helped me and…D…Domo." His name seemed to catch in her throat. That could mean anything, but her face seemed to pale as she said it.

"I see. Fascinating. As for you…" Clipboard man hesitated a moment, flipping through his clipboard before shrugging lightly. "Boy. From what we've heard about you, you certainly live up to your reputation. However unfortunately, neither of you completed the most pertinent question." Here he steepled his fingers and his narrow black eyes flicked between the two of them. "Are you prepared to die?"

"Yes," Hana said, at the same time the boy said:  
"I don't understand the question."

Both Clipboard man and Hana looked at him, seeming surprised. The boy suppressed a sigh.

"It seems sufficiently worded," said Clipboard man.

"But it isn't," said Heero. "Do you mean am I prepared to die accidentally in the mission? Prepared to sacrifice myself? Or do you just mean to risk my life?"

"Death comes in many forms, boy. You should always be prepared."

"No one is ever prepared to die," the boy said. Even when they knew it was coming, the moment between life and death was filled with fear. And after it, there was quiet, heavy seeking quiet, buried under the rubble and seeing a rounded spot of blue. The boy blinked the strange memory away and shrugged. Hana looked away but Clipboard man was staring at him with an expression the boy couldn't read.

"But," the boy said. "If it comes to a choice between the mission failing or my death, I will die." Prepared or not. Clipboard man stared at him for a long moment after until even he was starting to feel fidgety.

"Indeed," the man said. Clipboard man nodded, then in a sudden burst of energy began to gather his papers together, tapping them on the desk so they were even. "In any case, you both failed this test. By a slim margin but a fail is still a fail. I must admit I hadn't anticipated it but que sera sera and all that. Now as things stand, you are both fairly matched physically, with Mitsuyo-san-" he nodded to her. "At a slight lead, but when you grow into yourself, boy, you'll no doubt surpass her by quite a margin. It must be some strong vitamins J-sensei is feeding you, am I right?" And then he smiled—or at least the boy guessed that's what it was he was attempting but it looked as if he was severely constipated.

"No…" the boy said, feeling a little off balance. "I—"

"It was a joke. A joke-" Clipboard man cut in, sounding irritated as he snapped his papers to his clipboard. "Anyway where was I? Oh yes. With your background, boy, I'm surprised you failed the stealth test abysmally."

Stealth test? There had been one? The boy felt his ears redden. He must have been meant to sneak out… But he had several times so how had he failed? Maybe the cameras hadn't synchronized properly. Damnit. And he'd been so sure!

"The cameras—" the boy started.

"Were a good first attempt," Clipboard man cut in again. "But amateurish, really. And you kept returning to your room. I had a chuckle about that one. What kind of prisoner returns continually to their cell? Yes. You have a lot of learning to do. This is where Mitsuyo-san shone, I have to say. She disappeared from her room and we only found her what, once, twice? And yet she always managed to show up where she needed to be at just the right time. That, my dear is pure poetry. I applaud you. Excellent work hacking into the communication logs. We barely found you, so I've heard."

"It seems like I'm the better candidate," said Hana, her voice suddenly frosty.

"You are not," the boy retorted, sounding more testy then he wanted. He was beginning to feel out of his depth. She'd disappeared? In a place this small? How? It didn't even seem possible! And what was she doing in the communication logs? What was she looking for? Why was Clipboard man okay with this?

"It seems to me you are. You're young and stupid," she spat out the last word, unfolding herself from the chair, pose rigid as she crossed her arms. "You wouldn't have survived if Domo wasn't bottle feeding you the whole way. My father would have _killed _you."

"I wasn't bottle fed by anyone," the boy said. Or was he? He tried to think back. So far he'd gotten everything on his own…hadn't he? Most things. Domo had helped him out once or twice but he'd gotten most of the way on his own, right?

"Of course you weren't. Father said you were training with someone before you even got here. So you were never alone, were you? You don't even know how to be."

Odin didn't count. Well maybe he did—but it didn't matter. Being alone or not being alone in the past didn't matter. What he was capable of now was all that mattered.

"Do you? If you run out of those drugs that Mitsuyo forces in you, what will you be then?"

Hana came at him, faster then he thought capable. Her fist flew at his face. He managed to stop it with his hand but suddenly her other hand slapped into his forehead, slamming his head back against the wall. Sharp white flashed before his eyes then again as she snapped his head back. He snapped his heel into her knee and she yelped and let go long enough for him to jerk forward and drive a fist into her stomach. She wheeze and doubled over but her cold hands jumped around his neck, pulling tight. He clawed at her.

"Now now," Clipboard man was saying, distantly. The boy couldn't breathe, a soft buzzing noise filled his head and the edges of his vision were going dark. He jabbed his fingers at her eyes. He got her left one, feeling it give before she shrieked and stumbled back, covering her face with her hand. The boy rubbed his throat, breathing hard and glaring at her. Her eyes, or the eye that he could see was wet and her brow was furrowed. A reaction to pain?

"Now wasn't that silly of you?" said Clipboard man and there was a sound as he shuffled his papers again. "Now you're both hurt. Now we must be civilized about this. We are on the same side after all, fighting for the same goal, i.e. liberation of the colonies from earth control and what not. As it happens there is one more trial which will commence in week's time. Until that time, both of you are to stay away from each other _and _the Gundam." And here he looked at the boy pointedly. Or at least he seemed to. "If any of these rules are violated I will see to it the perpetrator is disqualified and, I warn you, this is not a test of any kind." He snapped the papers in his clipboard and rose, but seemed hesitant to leave –as if he was afraid to pass through them. Hana straightened and dropped her hand from her eye which was squinted and watery but not bloody. He was relieved in a way that he hadn't damaged it.

"When this is over I will kill you," she said softly, then limped from the room. The boy stared at her retreating back, rubbing his neck.

"Don't make me have to kill you," he murmured, but not so she could hear. He didn't want to. The thought of it— She had hurt him. She was a definite obstacle. She would be even worse once he got the Gundam so he would have to. One shot between her eyes and she would be dead like everyone else. He would die for the mission and he would kill for it, too, and that's just the way it was.

* * *

Don't own, naturally. Yada yada, etc etc

Many thanks to West_Side, Byrony and the many wonderful people over at Safehousing!

Now the next chapter coming up is really long (like 35 pages give or take) so it's going to be broken up into two parts. I just want to say this now so no one freaks out at an evil cliffhanger and then having to wait a few years for the next part. No sir. We are going to finish this, precious.


	25. Wing Gundam: Part III

The military installment rose into visual as he crested the hill. It was blocky and rough with the windows of the target building blinking green. Two leos stood guard outside the gate and though he was obviously in visual range, they didn't see him. The boy blew out a breath and took his hand off the control stick to wave his fingers over the virtual buttons that would pull up the information on the installment. Guarded by sixteen units; eight on the perimeter, six guarding the hangar bay where the new Scorpio units were being built. He waved his fingers again, pulling up the information on the Scorpios. Operational status: Unknown. Weapon Capabilities: Unknown. Cool factor: Over 9000. The boy rolled his eyes. Howell had obviously designed this program; there were his touches all over the place.

He moved his hand back to the controls and found the little toggle that should trigger the buster rifle. A screen popped up on the left, showing it slowly charging. Three minutes later it was finished and he pulled back on the controls to order the arms to lift it and squeezed to press the trigger. A violent beam of light tore across the ground, ripping through the gates, sending concrete and leos flying until it hit the target which exploded in a variety of colors, looking like fireworks.

Target destroyed 2/10. The curly letters flashed on the screen for a few seconds before the scene shifted, the smoking crater of the military installment replaced by a jungle. This was ridiculous.

"You were supposed to go inside," Howell's voice filtered into the headset, sounding disappointed. "The Scorps were really fantastic."

"Why should I? I'm not going to take risks if I can just blow them away," the boy responded, moving his hands to the controls again so he could bring up a map of the area. It was difficult to find the right controls and the sensors on his fingers didn't seem to be calibrated correctly because he kept hitting buttons he didn't mean to.

"Still not working right, are they?" Howell said with a sigh. "All right."

Everything went black. The boy waited patiently as the headset was removed and blinked in the sudden harsh light of the room. The headache that had been pushed to the corners of his mind as he concentrated on the simulation came back even stronger, throbbing at his temples. The back of his head still ached from where Hana had slammed it into the wall—even though it had been two days ago.

He tried not to think about it. Instead he focused on his hands, tracing the silver fiber optic cables that threaded through the thin black gloves like veins. He didn't know anything about virtual reality equipment, though he was mildly curious. Howell came around to face him and crouched in front of him, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"They look okay," Howell said. "I wonder if something is disrupting the wireless signal. I must have tested these things a hundred times all ready. I'm sure you know what this means." He looked up at the boy, a quirk forming at the side of his mouth. He was going to either make a stupid joke or say something completely off the wall. The boy wasn't going to play into it. He wasn't in the mood for stupidity but it seemed to be attacking him from all sides today.

"It means that Kurosawa is cheap," Howell said, peeling one glove off. The whisper of his smooth fingers across the boy's wrist was jarring and he jerked his hand away from the contact. Howell blinked in surprise but the boy ignored him. He was not in the mood. He carefully took off one glove, than the other, handing both to the blond scientist.

"Who is Kurosawa?" he said, grudgingly as Howell frowned at him. The man let out a puff of air and straightened.

"Oh, you know, jittery owl-faced guy, lugs around a clipboard." Howell waved a hand dismissively. "He's from the finances department really. I wonder how hard he begged for this job."

"Is he going to be the one judging this?" the boy said, a little concerned. Financial people could be bought with money too easily and he wouldn't put it past Mitsuyo to try a little of both to get his way.

"No. The results are passed on more or less directly to someone overhead. Don't bother asking me, I have no idea who. He does a good job for all that he's a twit. But that's just interdepartmental drama. I'm sure you don't care."

"Not really," the boy said. He was only in here because there was nothing else to do. He wanted to be back in the hangar with Wing, to watch as they worked on it, to feel the vibrations as the mobile suit hummed to life. Even half complete as it was, it seemed to the boy sometimes that it was the realest thing in the universe, a complex body of gundanium and cables and intelligence. But he wasn't going to risk forfeiting the competition—wasn't going to risk losing it. So consequently it meant hours of boredom. Neither he nor Hana were allowed to leave this basement facility until one of them were chosen. So, restricted as he was, the only things to do were exercise, try to read Dr. J's books on gravitational flux theory that were way beyond him, or drive himself slowly crazy by pacing the halls.

On top of everything else, Mitsuyo had arrived this morning and the boy hadn't known about it but gotten a nasty surprise when the rat faced scientist had come into the lunch room, arguing with Dr. J as he always seemed to do. The boy had been filled with the overwhelming urge to run which both annoyed and unsettled him. It wasn't that he was afraid of Mitsuyo but something about the man made the food he had been eating taste like acid on his tongue.

So here, helping Howell debug the simulator that was to be their final test was relaxing in a way. Howell was annoying and his constant chatter didn't help the boy's headache but at least it was talking he was used to. He didn't understand Howell but he trusted him to a certain extent, at least enough to be virtually blind around him as he was wrapped up in the simulation. Or at least, Howell used to be chatty, but now he was silent, gloves laying next to him as he tapped commands into the computer. Occasionally his fingers would stop all together and he would stare straight ahead as if his mind had drifted elsewhere. No wonder the sensors were off.

"Hey," the boy said. "Stop spacing out. If you don't pay attention to what you're doing we'll never get this done."

Howell blinked and looked at him. The corners of his lips lifted then flattened out again and he sighed. The boy watched as the scientist took off his glasses, tilted his head back and began to spin around and around with his chair, his black shoes drumming against the thinly carpeted floor. The boy bit back his impatience until the tenth revolution.

"Howell," he said in a flat warning tone. He didn't know what he was going to do if the man decided not to pay attention to him, other than perhaps push him off his chair.

"I'm sorry, kodomo," he said, not ceasing his spin. "I just can't focus right now."

"You're on the clock, aren't you?" the boy said. The man didn't respond but to flap his hand then let his arm drape down, so that his fingers brushed the underside of the chair. The boy rolled his eyes again and stood, retrieving the helmet from where Howell had set it on a stool and sat back down, fixing the helmet back over his head.

"At least turn the simulation back on," he said, gripping the controls once more. There was a heady sigh but a soft beep and a blue screen with a loading bar as the simulation booted. Then he was back at the first base again, a small compound on a sharp cliff overlooking the rolling sea. He couldn't pull up any maps or information of the area but he could move himself back and forth and lift and charge the beam canon. He pressed both controls forward, eyes on the base but appreciative of the incredibly detailed terrain that rolled underfoot. The bases themselves were rushed and pixilated but the surrounding countryside was beautiful.

Howell was from earth and it was obvious he missed it. The boy couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to the colonies. It was something he would never understand. What people were going to do, he could usually get, if he had spent enough time around them or had a rough idea of what kind of person they were but the motivations or desires that drove people, he didn't know, and who could ever know really?

The boy let those thoughts pass as he navigated the steep incline to get to the base. It wasn't heavily guarded, he knew, four mobile suits all together and a cache of colony destroying ammunition, whatever that was, tucked into the far corner near the seaward wall. The challenge would be, when Howell finally got to work, was that he would be blatantly visible all the way up and therefore vulnerable. Not that the scant bullets would harm his mobile suit much, but a showering of bullets in the wrong place would send the loose soil skidding down and taking him with it if he wasn't careful.

A Leo on patrol appeared at the top of the hill and the boy could see the faint etching of a smiling sun on its metal thigh. Could Howell take anything seriously? Still even though he was only about fifteen meters away he didn't charge his beam canon. It didn't matter. He could step on them easier. He toyed with the mental image of kicking one of the Leos off the cliff and watching it bounce off the razor sharp rocks before splashing in the frothing sea. It would be play more than work but until Howell got his act together there wasn't much else the boy could do.

Shots fired behind him, thudding off the mobile suit's back. What the— Another blast turned the screen white for a moment and when he could see he saw he had been knocked a few steps forward. The boy reached out to switch the camera to rear view and then realized he couldn't. Cursing under his breath he wrenched the gundam around, sliding down as the dirt shifted underneath him. Nineteen mobile suits, painted green and speckled black, had emerged from the forest area that hadn't been there when he'd last looked. Two of them lugged a huge canon between them while a third stood behind it.

A light flared in the muzzle of the canon as it charged and the boy was forced to twist again so he could run crosswise across the hill even as the loose dirt crumbled around him. The other suits opened fire, bullets thudded the ground, making it even more uncertain, and pinged in annoying frequency off the mobile suit's shell. He switched on his own beam canon, relieved at least to see the indicator for that begin charging on the left. The ground suddenly exploded at his feet, sending a cloud of dirt in the air, and again and again, violent yellow flashes all around him, obscuring his vision even as the bullets still bounced off, but with increasing accuracy. The boy hesitated, unsure of whether to move forward and hope for clearer visibility or stay where he was until it cleared. If he moved forward there was a chance of him running off the cliff completely.

White flashed out of the cloud of dirt and slammed into the suit. The world spun, dirt spinning and mixing with patches of sky. There was the crashing sound as his suit hit the ground. A status report flickered in the top right. The left arm of the mobile suit had been completely severed which meant the beam canon was gone too. He was weaponless and though his suit was designed to be stronger, he was sure that if the other suits circled around him and fired continuously they would find some way to pierce the hull. There was no way for him to fight back except trying to punch their suits if he could get close enough. The boy struggled to get the mobile suit standing and managed but it tilted dangerously to one side. He thought of activating the boosters but realized, once again, that he couldn't access the panel. Damnit.

At least by now the dirt screen had cleared some, enough for him to see that the units below were advancing and that he was still facing them. He couldn't fight but he wouldn't surrender. The cache was still up there, undamaged. The mission. He had to complete it. He wrenched the mobile suit around again, but slower this time, compensating for the unbalanced weight, then surged forward at full speed, leaving the dust behind him. The Leos on guard saw him now and more bullets sprayed, one cracking the screen. He went past them, unheeding, using his one arm to crash open the gate. A large metal scorpion rested on the other side directly blocking his bath. The jointed tail raised with a series of clicks, points of light flashed around the point of the tail and a slow whine filled the air. There were no smiling suns in this model. The boy charged over it, seeing the perspective change as the foot of the mobile suit smashed into the metal carapace of the strange mech, lifting his suit a bit in the air.

A bark of laughter came from somewhere in the room and the boy couldn't help but grin. He was making it. He knew exactly where the cache was. He could see the low lying building now. There were no weapons for him to destroy it with so the boy flung the mobile suit headlong onto the building. There was a muffled explosion as the weapons cache went off and the screen flashed white except for the word dead slowly sinking into view with red dripping letters.

"Mission complete," the boy said, pulling off the helmet and grinning at Howell who was smiling back, red faced from laughing. Sweat dripped down his face and dampened his hair and the headache throbbed with a vengeance but he felt good.

"You little son of a bitch, you ran right over my Scorp," Howell said.

"Well next time don't put it at knee level."

"Point taken, little monster," Howell said, grinning and folding his arms behind his head. The boy slipped from the chair, intent on putting the headset back on the stool and froze when he saw Hana standing just beside the doorway, arms folded and expression sour. Clipboard man—Kurosawa stood beside her, clutching his ever present clipboard spasmodically as if he didn't know what to do with his fingers. They were just at the right angle, the boy realized, to have seen the entire thing from Howell's screens. Well it didn't matter. He put the helmet on the stool then flexed his hands to relax them.

"That was cheating," Hana said. "It's not a fair test unless we both have equal opportunity practicing."

"I wasn't even at half capacity," the boy said, the adrenaline still in his system turning his brief exhilaration into quick, biting annoyance. "We were just debugging."

"Howell-san," Kurosawa said. "You were forewarned. There is to be no favoritism from you if you wish to remain on board. Explain yourself."

"Relax, Kuro-kun," Howell said, spinning in his chair once more. Kurosawa looked a bit taken aback by this name but before he could speak, Howell continued: "We're just debugging like he said."

"But he knows where everything is," Hana said. How did she know he knew? How long had she been watching? Had she managed to hack into Howell's computer from another location or was she just guessing?

"This is just the beta testing, which you put me in charge of, Kuro-kun," Howell said. "None of it is going to be on the actual simulation but I needed someone competent to test it. Everyone who is not busy with Wing just wants to goof off and make fun of my landscaping."

It was good landscaping, the boy thought, feeling defensive. Hana came forward and the boy tensed but she wouldn't do anything so long as Kurosawa was watching. She gave him a frosty look then just as quickly seemed to dismiss him. Even though the boy didn't want to start a fight, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed but he quickly shook the feeling away. It didn't matter.

"I want to do the same thing," Hana said. "All the trials he's been doing."

"Fine," Howell said mildly, coolly. He didn't seem to like her much and the boy couldn't imagine why. Howell liked everyone. "But you're going to have to wait until the gloves are repaired."

"He did it without the gloves," Hana said.

"That was only for this last base and the only reason he managed at all was because he knew the terrain. But if you want to try, go ahead, it's your funeral." Howell flipped a hand casually at the chair. What was wrong with him, the boy wondered. Hana glanced at him and he realized she was judging whether or not she could go past him. He didn't see why she was being so cautious. After all she was the one who'd attacked the last time.

"I'm going to get some lunch," the boy said. "Should I bring you back anything?"

Howell just waved which the boy took as a no since he didn't specify. As he started toward the door he saw Kurosawa settle himself in a metal chair, situated so he could see the screen. He was here to watch—out of a sense of fairness or because Hana had asked him to, the boy couldn't be sure. Well it didn't matter. He was willing to believe that Kurosawa wasn't biased until proven otherwise and in the end, the one with the greater skill would get Wing.

The lunchroom was bursting with activity. Someone had bought in a little portable radio and half the room seemed to be singing along. Everyone else was talking and raising their voices to be heard above the noise. It didn't help his headache at all. But pain though it was, it was manageable pain and the boy didn't even wince.

"Hey, kid," Mike shouted and the boy saw him sitting at a crowded table near the radio. "We got a seat open!"

The boy shook his head, not in the mood to sit in the hot unruly crowd, and threaded his way through the room and into the kitchen. It was a mess, as usual. Such a mess in fact that he noticed it before he even noticed Domo. The man was sitting at the little rickety round table that was crammed up against the little used dishwasher. Domo's wheelchair could barely fit under it and the boy wondered how he'd ever managed to get the wheelchair through the lunchroom to begin with.

He'd changed a bit since the boy had last seen him. His skin, while always pale, was now seemed almost translucent and clung to his frame—a skeleton that still breathed though even when he did, the boy could hear the liquid in his lungs. He'd even lost his hair and the boy could trace the faint blue veins in his scalp. He was alive only because he hadn't bothered to stop breathing yet. Or eating apparently. The boy watched as he tried to impale a straw into the juice box clutched lightly in his bonelike fingers. His hands were shaking so much he missed and scraped the straw along the back of his hand a pink mark welled there, any harder and it would be stippled with blood.

The boy approached him slowly as not to startle him and took the straw from him gently before sliding it in the juice box and handing it back. The corner of Domo's mouth tilted up but his eyes were dull and flat.

"Stay out of Howell's computer," the boy said, turning to the refrigerator and opening it. It was full to bursting and mostly everything was wrapped and labeled with various names. The boy didn't pay attention to the names. No one else did. It was just a waste of paper to even claim territory to it. He found a bowl of leftover spaghetti and lifted the lid, sniffing it carefully. Hn. Still good.

"Well hello to you, too," said Domo, voice sounding like a rusty saw blade. "How is the family? How are the kids?"

"You should drink more, you're getting delirious," the boy said, pushing some dishes into the sink so he could put the spaghetti bowl down, then searched the small kitchen for the step stool. The microwave was above the sink, tucked into a little alcove and nearly inaccessible. Climbing onto the counter was dangerous, too. One slip and he'd likely get tetanus or something equally nasty.

"I would but they confiscated my whiskey," Domo said, a little belated. Where the hell was that stool? He put it in the same place every night and the next morning someone had moved it. The boy blew out a breath.

"Check behind the door," Domo said. The boy did and found it there, tipped on its side. Why was it even there? There was no reason for it to be behind the door. The boy decided it was better not to ask and pulled the stool up to the cabinets. It was big enough so that if he stood on the very top and leaned forward, precariously over the sink, he could just press the one minute button. It took some doing and some concentration but soon the boy had the spaghetti heating in the microwave. He then moved to sit on the top of the ladder, one leg tucked underneath him, the other kicking idly at the floor.

"So what are you doing here?" the boy asked.

"Waiting to die," Domo said with a smirk.

"I mean in the lunch room. Don't you usually eat with Mitsuyo?"

"Oh that, I'm meeting someone."

"Who?"

"Well aren't you curious," Domo said and sipped the juice. The boy shrugged. He didn't really care. It was probably Hana anyway. He stood up abruptly and began to search the drawers for a clean fork, or spoon, or chopsticks. Anything would do really. Something had to be clean, didn't it? Did they run out of the plastic kind? The boy blinked as he found a tri-wing screwdriver in among some measuring cups. He rolled his eyes and dropped them back in the drawer. Mechanics… He finally found some wooden cheap wooden chopsticks that looked new but he washed them off anyway just in case.

Domo said nothing more. The boy retrieved his food and found it satisfactorily warm, or at least warm enough not to take the risk again, and sat back on the stool, poking the spaghetti experimentally with his chopsticks. Music and laughter rolled into the kitchen from the outside, slightly muffled but still pretty loud. Someone was singing "She Spaced Me" loud and off key, oblivious to the actual lyrics coming from the radio. Domo wasn't drinking, the boy realized, just staring at the table, the tics in his fingers and face making him grimace and he suddenly coughed a hollow, choking sound.

"I hear your army is making a comeback," Domo said after a time. "The Hero's Army, the media calls them. Nasty renegades and terrorists."

So they had a name? He hadn't heard. Well it didn't matter what they called themselves. Hopefully Toshi would be able to calm them down before they caused too much of a stir on colony.

"Of course they call themselves Heero's Army. Very prickly name, don't you think?"

The boy shrugged. He supposed so. He didn't know too much about Heero Yuy other than what Odin had hinted at but people seemed pretty incensed by him. Anyway, the rebellion was Toshi's business, not his.

"Maybe you could leave all these politics behind and go join them?"

"If I fight on the colonies the only people that are going to get hurt are the people I'm trying to protect," the boy said. After all, that was what he had done his whole life—Hurting people of the colonies. Some were traitors, true, but even they had friends and family who loved and mourned them and others…others were just unfortunate.

"Protect, huh?" Domo said. It seemed like sarcasm but the boy couldn't really tell and let it go. "So you'll just go rattling off into the wild void and who knows, these gundam things have never been made before. It might just break apart in space and you'll die before you even set foot on earth.

"Everybody dies," the boy said to avoid a debate. He really just wanted to eat his food and then perhaps take a nap. He was tired of having to prove himself to everyone and he didn't even need to prove himself to Domo. The man was just trying to get a rise out of him. It was like he didn't know any other way to communicate.

"Yes, but some of us die with a _vengeance_," Domo said, hissing the last word. The boy glanced at him and saw a grin had stretched the corners of his mouth. The skin split on his pale lower lip and showed a line of red. The boy glared at him. He didn't like that line. He didn't trust that line.

"Don't interfere, Domo."

"No, never. Not me. A kid single-handedly destroying Mitsuyo's reputation?" He pressed his skeletal hand against his chest, fingers spasaming against the cloth. "It would be a dream come true. I saw what you did to that Scorpio unit, and I can show you how. I can teach you everything I know."

The boy took a bite of spaghetti. Domo was not to be trusted. Even though the man had helped him on the satellite, he was too unreliable, too close to Mitsuyo and effected by what the scientist did. On the other hand, his motivations for revenge were strong and the boy had seen what he could do. It was a good offer, if Domo wasn't lying, and it would be something to practice when he had nothing else to do.

"I'll think about it," he said.

"Think too long and I'll be dead before we get started."

That was true but still the boy wouldn't be rushed into it. He ate and then finished his small, mostly tasteless meal and put it in the sink, or rather, on top of the dish mountain in the sink. Then he went to the refrigerator and hunted for the orange juice he'd asked Dr. J to get for him the other day. He found it finally, tucked behind a bowl of spotted apples and narrowed his eyes when he discovered it was half gone already. If only there was a way he could padlock the lid.

He was just on his way out of the kitchen when he nearly ran into Howell who was coming in. The blond scientist seemed agitated and glared at the boy before seeming to realize it was him.

"Oh," said Howell. "Sorry, kodomo."

"How did it go?" the boy asked.

"She won three times before she was satisfied." He shook his head. "But it doesn't count. She was just playing off what you did."

"Mean, Alec," Domo said. "Are you picking on Hana-chan, again?"

"I'm not picking, koishii, the girl is insufferable," Howell said, moving around the boy to root through the refrigerator. "Every time we're alone it's "you betrayed my father" this and "You'll be sorry" that." Domo's smile seemed genuine this time, settling in a soft way on his thin lips. The boy had never seen him smile like that before.

"You never change," Domo said. Howell was the one he'd been waiting on, the boy realized. They were friends. They…they had known each other before. He remembered the photograph he had seen that day, trapped in the little hideaway spot, not long after Tatsu had been killed. They were friends. They were close. The boy had always trusted Howell but suddenly he wondered if he really should. Howell always seemed to be ruled by his emotions and if Mitsuyo found a way to use Domo against him…

The boy left the kitchen, taking his orange juice with him and passing through the lunch room. He ignored those who called to him and ducked out into the blissfully silent hall where he uncapped his juice as he walked and tried to think about what to do. It was so irritating. The more people he knew, the more things seemed to become tangled. It was better when he was alone with Odin. No attachments, no worries, complete the mission and move on to the next one. Trusting anyone wasn't an option. That was the way an assassin should live and maybe that was the way a Gundam pilot should live as well.

---

---

Two more days had passed and so far the plan to avoid people was proving mostly a success, though there were a few holes. He couldn't avoid Howell since he needed to practice on the simulation and because of the simulation he couldn't avoid Hana either. Her presence was almost to his benefit because he could watch her as she practiced the simulation, noting her style and efficiency as the enemies steadily increased. Her precision was good and her strategies were solid but her accuracy was a little off and the boy's talent in that area could get him the win he needed. It was hard to say since he couldn't sure what it was they would be doing.

Unfortunately her being there also meant Kurosawa was there, watching and scribbling on his clipboard and yesterday the boy had taken off the helmet to find Mitsuyo standing in the shadows of the door and his skin had crawled. Howell had said nothing about it and had looked away when the boy glanced at him. He'd wanted to talk to Dr. J about it but for the past four days the old scientist had been top side, code for: don't know but probably classified. So today the boy had forgone practicing completely, intent on staying in his room and puzzling through J's books.

Yet now, driven by a heady mix of boredom and frustration, he was sitting at the kitchen table, crammed between dishwasher and Domo who seemed to have stitched a permanent smirk onto his face. Domo's laptop was between them, the strange square brown monster thing grinning up at them from the desktop. They were a lot alike, the boy decided.

"So tell me what you know," Domo said, resting his chin on his fist, the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as he looked at the boy through lowered eyes. "I know you're a resourceful little bugger but I doubt you know anything really worthwhile."

The boy had read a few books here and there. He could understand more or less how to talk to a network and how to understand it when it talked back, though he hadn't had the chance to do that kind of thing in a while.

"Why don't you tell me what you know and I'll see if I can use it," the boy said. Not that he thought that he knew anything Domo didn't, but withholding information was a good policy.

"Always so cocky. Maybe I shouldn't teach you at all."

"It's your choice," said the boy with a shrug.

"Suit yourself," said Domo. The boy stared at him. Domo stared back. There seemed to be more to his eyes today, as if some faint spark had flickered back to life. The boy didn't understand but he was beginning to get that some things—people mostly—defied understanding. Finally Domo coughed into his hands and then ran trembling fingers over his pale scalp.

"All right, listen up you little bastard because I'm only going to explain this once. That is the power button and when you press it the computer boots up. These keys are how you input data, it's called typing. Now this little pad at the bottom, you put your finger on it and—"

"I know my way around the network," the boy cut in, annoyed but conceding so they would actually get somewhere. "And a few protocols."

"Ooh a few protocols. Well we're cooking now. So, Mr. Know-it-all, based on that, how do you think I did it?"

"You hacked into the network…" Which was a feat in itself. It was a small network but protected by the strongest firewall known to man, or at least that's what Dr. J had claimed. Not to mention numerous other nasty surprises that awaited the unwary hacker. Something like that would have taken him hours. Did Domo really have the strength to do it? Could Hana have done it? And even once in the network, small though it was, it would still take some time to find the right computer. The boy pushed those questions aside for the moment, focusing on what he knew.

"Found Howell's computer…" or maybe the mainframes that sat on the floor which is what the simulation really ran off of, though it got the commands from Howell's computer so it could have easily been both.

"And convinced it to let you in so you could stream the video back here."

But the boy couldn't imagine that Howell would leave his own computer so vulnerable and it was probably about as heavily secured as this network. So how…?

"It's a script, all right, a script. My god by the time you finish I'll be dead all ready. Look." Domo pulled the computer to him, opened a program and began to type, fast. His fingers flew, rattling over the keyboard. The boy watched the script grow, memorizing all that he could. It wasn't easy but if he could only get half of it then maybe he could figure out the rest himself. He knew he could.

Finally Domo tapped out the last lines, but he was breathing hard, fluid rattling in his lungs and making it almost sound like a purr. His face was almost completely red with effort and then he hunched over and began to cough, hard, wracking coughs that shook his whole body. The boy stared at the screen, taking the opportunity to memorize even more. Every dot, slash and ampersand meant something and if he missed just one character, the entire script would fail.

His eyes caught on the words "username" and "password". That made sense. Domo's computer had to convince Howell's computer that it had the right to be there, that meant Domo had to either get his hands on an administrator's username and password or he had some program which could bypass it. In either case, the boy didn't expect Domo to tell him. Maybe he could go through the data logs on Howell's computer and see who had last accessed the files, then he could go to Dr. J with the results.

Domo kept coughing. Coughing and coughing and the liquid seem to burble up into his throat. Blood and mucus splashed on the computer and the table, hot across the boy's hands and lap. Domo's entire body began to spasm, jerking back and forth as if he was being electrocuted. What—what was going on? What was this? It was bad. He needed help but the boy didn't know what to do. He had to get help! Someone else could help, couldn't they? The boy bolted to his feet, slipping on the blood spotted floor and skidded to the doorway of the kitchen. The lunch room was nearly deserted, only two men and a woman sat out there, crowded together, backs to him.

"Someone needs to help," he said, wanted to scream, but his voice came out faint and small. Child like. Something crashed behind him. "Someone needs to help!" he shouted. The adults jumped up, startled, and turned to look at him. The woman reacted first, seeming to spot the blood on his hands.

"Get Morioka in here!" she shouted over her shoulder as she ran up to him.

"Roger!" shouted one of the men, dashing out the door.

"What did you do to…" she started looking at him, then looking past him, the color draining from her face. "Shit. Akira I'm going to need your help in here!"

The boy moved out of the way, pressing himself against the wall and watched as they gently tried to get Domo to the floor, though he hit them and broke Akira's glasses making him curse. But soon they managed and the boy watched him jerk and writhe then finally settle. He should be dead after all that, he really should be. There was blood on his mouth, but his chest rose and fell faintly. Then his eyes fluttered open, halfway and he stared without expression. The boy looked away, his stomach twisting, and went to the sink to wash the blood from his hands. It streamed over the unwashed dishes and disappeared into the depths of the sink. A strange emotion coiled in his stomach which the boy tried to ignore. The woman was looking at him as if she disapproved but she said nothing. He didn't look at her as he grabbed some napkins left over from someone's takeout and sat at the table, trying to clean the blood from the keys.

A few people came with a stretcher, one was, he guessed, Morioka, but he didn't look up from his task to make sure. Then, grumbling and cursing at the inconvenience, they carried Domo out. The boy worked at the keys until all napkins were bloody then hunted for something else to clean the screen with. What had just happened? He'd never seen anyone spasm so violently like that before. He remembered some people twitching a bad shot as they slowly died but Domo hadn't even been touched. Maybe it was something in the drugs Mitsuyo had been giving him. What if Hana ended up like that? All the more reason for her not to have the Gundam…

The boy found half a roll of paper towels lodged under a large frying pan and carefully wiped down the screen. Domo's chair sat empty beside him. Domo had always suffered as long as the boy had known him and a lot of it was Mitsuyo's doing. Though the boy didn't understand why, he knew it was true, and he didn't think Domo would be the end of it. Whether Hana got the Gundam or not, Mitsuyo would still continue treating people like his personal lab rats. But as bad as Mitsuyo was, he couldn't be the only one. There were other people on the colonies that were as bad or maybe even worse than Mitsuyo. When he did free the colonies from Alliance control, he'd be freeing the bad ones like Mitsuyo, too. But maybe once one problem was fixed, the other would take care of itself. The boy didn't know. Suddenly everything seemed so overwhelming.

No. He couldn't let himself get unnerved now. That was unacceptable. His first priority was the Gundam. He would worry about everything else when there was time. If there was time.

He finished cleaning off the screen. The script was still there, the cursor blinking at the last line. He didn't even have to memorize it. Maybe with this computer, he could find out exactly what Domo had been up to. Maybe he could find out more than Domo wanted him to know and Howell to for that matter. He could find out everything he ever wanted to know. He picked up the laptop, holding it close to his chest and, careful to keep it open, headed for the relative privacy of his room.

---

---

The boy sat in Dr. J's office behind his desk, flipping through the files he'd managed to salvage from Domo's computer yesterday. He'd had a good four hours on the laptop before he realized the battery was almost dead. Then he'd been in a rush to save things to the data key he used for his practice programs, dumping the programs in the process and this was what he was left with and he didn't even know if it would help. He wasn't even sure what he was looking at half the time. Many of them were scripts and he was reluctant to run them before he knew what they did. He'd also managed to get a partial log of the computer's operations for the past two days but so far it wasn't telling him anything at all.

Grunting in frustration, the boy pushed off of the floor, swiveling the chair around and around. He'd been at this for a long time and his neck ached and he was restless, itching to move. Maybe he should go work out soon, at least run the treadmill but not for long. The boy had to figure out if Domo or Howell were up to anything before the final test for the Gundam.

The clock above him mewed twelve times. One day left now. Anticipation and anxiety squirmed inside of him. He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the chair. There was no need to be worried about his own abilities. He could beat Hana, he knew he could, he had to. He just had to go in with a clear head and figuring out what the hell was going on would be a good start in that direction. He took a deep breath and blew it out then swiveled back to the computer. Most of the filenames were in Japanese but as he clicked through, he found one file in English labeled: practice.

The boy scrolled through it. He didn't understand all of it but it looked like a code dealing with some sort of targeting coordinates. He read the code, though there were pieces of it he still didn't get; it was some sort of complex algorithm and the boy could only just follow the calculations, though he had to read it a few times to get the concept which was time consuming as it went on for pages. It reminded him vaguely of the calculations of that shooter game Howell had made for him before Odin had died. Further down the style of the code changed completely. He puzzled through it, nudging his feet against the floor impatiently. If he understood it right, the calculations of in this section nearly completely overrode the one above it. What was the point of that? It didn't make any sense to him. Why would you make such a complex code if you were just going to change all the parameters later? Though when he looked closer he found a function; the second part of the code only applied to something called green unit whatever that meant. There was too much to puzzle out and the boy didn't have all night to spend on it. Annoyed, but knowing he needed to move on; he closed the file and closed the file.

Time passed. The clock mewed once, then twice and the boy had to get up and stretch again. He would have to give in soon. It was getting harder and harder to focus. Thirty more minutes, the boy decided, then he would try and get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow Dr. J would be back and could help with what the boy didn't understand. He rolled his neck and shoulders a bit to relieve the tension, then cracked his fingers and looked some more. The boy clicked to open a document, saw the script Domo had been working on yesterday and closed it. Just before the screen disappeared, something strange caught his eye.

He reopened it again, his heart jumping. It wasn't the script Domo had been working on yesterday but it was the same script, except this one was filled in. There was a username, password, and even a specific computer's linkup point. The boy ran the script. A media program popped up but a grey box flashed in the center that said it was disconnected. Well, of course. There wasn't any beta testing going on right now. That was a dead end. But maybe he'd hacked into Howell's computer for something else. Even if not, the username and password was likely Howell's. Who else would have access? So if the boy could find the right script he could modify it with Howell's information and get on the man's laptop himself.

Since the latter idea would take more time then he wanted to spend tonight, the boy ran a search on the password. Seven results popped up. He opened and ran the first one. The media player came to the front, flickered a moment, then showed the abandoned lunch room. A few moments later the view switched to an empty hallway, and then a little later another hallway, then it went black, or seemed to, and then he was looking down into the small first aid station and saw Domo laying on the only bed, sunken and corpselike in the wan light, then the exercise room. These were the security cameras the boy realized. Watching the scenes flick by. This password had access to the security cameras. Why would Howell need access to the security cameras? Unless it wasn't Howell's password but the admin password. Why would Howell even have that? And why had he given it to Domo? The boy wanted to confront Howell, but he didn't know where Howell was. He wanted to tell Dr. J but he knew even less of J's whereabouts. For now he was stuck with dangerous information and nothing to do with it.

The boy clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration. He considered running the other scripts but he was too tired and annoyed to focus right now and he didn't want to accidentally release a virus or whatever Domo was planning to do. But was he really planning to do something like that? Why did he show the boy the script if he was? Why hadn't he already if he had the access? There were so many questions the boy just could not think to answer.

Maybe, though, it was enough for today. It wouldn't do any good for the boy to exhaust himself. There was still one day left and he would look tomorrow. If nothing presented itself then, he would go for the Gundam anyway and take whatever troubles that came.

----

----

The boy jogged at a steady pace, the treadmill whirring rhythmically underneath him. The exercise helped to relieve some of his pent up frustration but not all of it. Today was the day, the final day to prove himself, to get the Gundam, to prove that he was the better candidate. He had searched all yesterday through Domo's files for anything else but all the other scripts with the admin password had been half finished and the boy didn't even know what they had been intended for.

It was a waste of his time to worry about it right now. He'd gathered what evidence he could and he would just have to see how things would pan out. A glance at the boring black rimmed clock hanging just above the door told him it was almost time. Just fifteen minutes left until the final test would commence. The boy lowered the treadmill so that he could cool off but soon grew impatient and stopped the treadmill completely, instead choosing to pace back and forth, sipping at his water. He needed to focus. He couldn't let anything get to him. Even if Dr. J wasn't there and he was by himself in a room with Mitsuyo and Howell he couldn't let himself be sidetracked from the goal…the mission.

_Just because you've gotta do something doesn't mean life stops, kid, _Odin's voice drifted up from the boy's memory, grainy and distant. _A car will backfire or a target will drop his wallet at the last second and bend down to pick it up. You can't let it get to you. You can't let anything get to you. _

_I wasn't planning on it_, the boy thought. Ten minutes. The boy aimed his finger at the clock as if his hand was a gun. Dead on center. A voice came outside. He could faintly hear it through the door. The boy moved closer, cocking his head toward the sound. That was Mitsuyo. The boy narrowed his eyes.

"You know what will happen if you fail," he said. "He doesn't have to die. I can keep him alive for a long long time."

Talking about Domo? Probably. But to whom? Howell? Hana? The boy pushed open the door and saw Mitsuyo walking down the hall, phone pressed to his ear.

"Very well," Mitsuyo said, then closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket. Well. It didn't matter. Not right now. Time to get going. The boy finished his water, capped it and set it on the floor, then walked toward the simulation room, his own footsteps calling back to him. He thought of Wing, slumped over half finished, technicians and mechanics who believed in some higher purpose, forming it and bringing it to life. He thought about all who risked their lives to make their colony free, their homes free from the crushing rule of the Alliance. He thought of all those who just wanted to live in peace without the sound of gunfire being as familiar to them as their own heartbeat.

The boy went into the simulation room. Two chairs had been set up, the VR helmet and gloves resting on stools beside them. Hana was all ready sitting, eyes wide and fingers jammed together as if to prevent her from biting them. Mitsuyo was there of course, smirking at him, but Dr. J stood right beside him, smiling at the boy. The boy acknowledged him with a nod and felt something in his stomach unknot a little. Kurosawa stood at the control station and a stranger stood beside him. There was no sign of Howell. Another good sign. He sat on the chair and began pulling on the gloves, not wanting to waste any time.

"Right," said Kurosawa, sounding a little startled. "Well it seems that everyone who needs to be here has arrived so let's commence the testing, shall we? Now if you will both please put on your gear so that Mr. Schtoltz here can run an equipment check."

Schtoltz, huh? Probably not from L-1, then, but it was always possible. The boy tugged on the other glove, put the helmet on and gripped the controls. The screen came to life and he saw earth floating in a sea of stars, rotating gently.

"Auditory test," said Schtoltz in serviceable but heavily accented Japanese. "If you can hear me, say roger."

"Roger," the boy said.

"You should be seeing the earth in front of you right now. Now it's red. Now it's green."

The boy gave the affirmative for all three. Then they checked movement, forward and back, one side to another. Finally he said:

"Press the start button located directly in front of you."

The boy reached out and pressed the button, satisfied that the simulation responded promptly to his command. The earth disappeared and he was in the middle of a wide forest. The trees uniformly the same shade of brown, the leaves blocky and merged together. A grid popped up on the left side of the screen. It was mostly blank but scattered here and there with green squares; below it looked to be a timer of some sort though it was still at zero.

"You should be in a forest with the target grid directly to your left," Schtoltz said.

"Roger," the boy said, wanting to move already but keeping still.

"All right," said Kurosawa. "Since everything is checking out fine we'll proceed. As you can see each of you have ten sectors. Pressing one of the colored squares on the grid will take you to the sectors where the targets are located. The specific target itself will be quite easy to spot. Once you have successfully finished at one sector, the green area will turn yellow and you will be able to move on by choosing another square on the grid. All targets must be destroyed within the time limit, if you finish with time left over, your opponent's grid will be displayed and you may choose from their targets. Is it clear?"

"Affirmative," the boy said. There was a brief pause and then Kurosawa said:

"Very well. Test will commence in five…

four…

three…

two…

one…

----

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Disclaimer: Not mine. No money in any case

A/N: Yeah I know, XD; Bad cliffie. But I will try to be more prompt with the next part so a few weeks? I hope? College is in full swing now but at least it's written right? Right? Right.

Many thanks to West-Side and the wonderful peeps at Safehousing. :D


	26. Wing Gundam: Part IV

"Begin!"

The boy punched a green square.

The scene shifted and abruptly he found himself in a forest of badly pixelated bamboo. He flicked a switch to open a map and his eyes widened. Assuming that his position was being marked as the little yellow diamond, the place was huge. There were green circles everywhere, some clustered five or six in one spot. All right. He'd start north and work his way clockwise.

As he throttled forward, he glanced at the little yellow diamond that moved along the screen, trying to guess from one point to another how long it would take. Maybe two minutes, give or take. He still had plenty of time. If he could judge how much time it would take to each point then maybe—

Suddenly he went past the bamboo forest and into a camp of green Leos lying in wait. Bullets rattled through the air and struck his suit. The boy jerked back, cursing under his breath, pulling backwards to get his suit back into the safety relative safety of the bamboo trees. The Leos continued to fire and the boy toggled the switch to activate the buster rifle. It began charging but three minutes was too long to wait. The boy toggled the weapons systems button. Saw the charge time for the buster rifle, a reminder that the beam saber, whatever that was, was offline, and ammunition for the shoulder canons. He activated the shoulder canons, pressing down to fire.

There was a Leo right in front of him, bearing down on him with a beam weapon. The shoulder canons took care of that, eventually. It was an inefficient method and the bullets didn't seem to be quite hitting where the boy thought they should go and by the time he finished there were even more. One Leo came too close but by this time the rifle was charged and he jammed it against the mobile suit's chest and fired. The white light blasted it apart and two others behind, the light seeming to bend slightly to brush one at an odd angle. The boy didn't have time to contemplate. For now the way was clear. And he moved forward.

He avoided the clearings from then on, able to see them on the map if he looked close enough, though the bamboo did slow him down. He finally saw his target, sitting on top of a hill. It looked like a communication tower, sticking out of a small walled military complex, blinking slowly green. It looked unguarded and the boy tried to pull information up about the complex and only got another view of his target. He was going in blind.

This time the boy made sure the buster rifle was charging as he went up the hill, the ground seemed patchy and uneven and the boy took note of it as he pushed forward. The uneven patches of ground rose up as he got closer revealing dark metal hallways and mobile suits. Lots of mobile suits. The boy got some of them with the shoulder canons, tried to activate the beam saber and had to do a bit of complicated maneuvering to switch the buster rifle to one hand as he activated the saber. Once it was activated though, he cut them down one handed, though it put him closer in range of their weapons and for some reason, he never hit where he'd intended. Maybe it was a glitch in the system or maybe he wasn't yet good enough at fencing but it was taking twice as long to destroy these units as it should.

Annoyed and trying not to be, the boy managed to clear the way and aimed for the tower with the buster rifle. Fired. And missed. A close shot but a clean miss. What? Alarms went off inside the base. One of Howell's Scorps climbed over the wall in a way no mobile suit should be able to do, tail charging. The boy barely managed to get out of the way a moment before it fired, leaving a large swath of burning earth. Gritting his teeth, the boy powered up the hill and caught a blast from a missile launcher located in its claw before managing to slice it in half but there was another one climbing over the wall and more mobile suits were coming out of the ground. The boy took care of the second Scorp with his shoulder canons and then the reinforcements coming in from the side. As soon as the buster rifle was charged again he took another shot at the communications tower and missed. Twice. Was his aim that far off? Maybe there was something distorting his perception of how close the tower really was.

He would have to go inside and try again. Hopefully that would work. It took some doing to get into the military installment and the boy realized it was probably not the best strategy as he was continually hammered by gunfire from mobile suits and mounted machine guns and the damned Scorp which took out half a wall with a shot the boy, again, only barely managed to avoid. Still he got to the tower, aimed carefully and caught it dead on, the tower exploding in a shower of multicolored sparks that looked so much like Howell's touch that the boy smiled in spite of himself before remembering he couldn't trust the man any longer. Pushing the thought aside, he moved on.

The next target was three minutes in the other direction. He reached the second target and quickly found out there were actually three targets close together, all heavily guarded. Maybe it was because he was unused to fighting like this, or there was something he wasn't getting, but the shoulder canons seemed to miss more often then not and he was forced to get in close, getting hit and knocked back on occasion as he tried to slice the enemy units in half with the beam saber. He needed to figure out how to fight the mobile suits more efficiently. This method took up entirely too much time.

He cut the seventh Leo away, the light as the suit sparking in the back of his eyes. The target, a strangely designed plane, lay just beyond. He fired at it from near point blank range. The shot from the buster rifle went wild, careening through the western gate and searing through the links in the chain fence. This wasn't right. Was he aiming to high? Did the rifle pull slightly to one side or another and he wasn't noticing? What was wrong? He waited for the rifle to charge again and fired a second time. The blast came closer this time, clipping the wing of the target but still bolting off in the wrong direction. Grunting in frustration he cut it in half with the saber and then the second and had to stop to fight off a handful of enemies. The third target was some distance against the opposite wall. The boy leveled a shot at it, knowing he wasn't going to make it and was surprised when it hit dead on. What was going on? Had he not been hitting the other targets the same way?

As the simulation progressed, the problem seemed to get worse. The boy would miss consistently, three, four, five, times in a row before finally hitting a good shot on the sixth. He managed to get off a few more good shots after that before he started to miss again. He just couldn't figure out what was going on. He knew his aim hadn't gotten that bad. So why did he keep missing? What the hell was wrong? Eventually it became easier to use the beam saber, weakening the enemies slightly, sometimes, with the shoulder canons before coming in and cutting them down. He quickly learned the best spots to hit and learned that an enemy mobile suit blowing up in the right place or a well timed dodge of a Scorp's blaster canon could destroy the target, or sometimes several, that much more effectively. By the time he had destroyed all of the targets on the first square, he had also learned that certain bases housed large ammunition rooms which, when hit just right, would also take out half the base, not to mention enemy units.

Still, it was a hard way to fight. Sweat dampened his forehead and stung his eyes and the boy's fingers hurt from being pressed so hard against the grips. But there were nine more squares to go. The boy took a deep breath, then another, and pressed another square. The ruined smoking aftermath of his last target disappeared; replaced by a blocky pine forest and it seemed even more green targets spread across greater distances. The boy double checked the map, checked his weapons and saw that his ammunition had been restored and his suit was back up to full capacity, decided a route and blasted forward, keeping his eyes out for unseen enemies.

Four targets destroyed, ten, twenty-five, thirty they blended into one another. The sound of bullets, his own and theirs, and the charging whine of the blaster seemed to echo in his ears even when he was simply traveling from one place to another. It was almost easier not to use the buster rifle now for shooting long range but he'd learned to take out multiple enemies in a single swoop by sweeping the buster rifle across rather than shooting straight ahead. He was also beginning to sense a pattern in the misses and hits of the rifle and was beginning to wonder if there was something in the simulation designed this way.

By the end of the fifth sector his fingers were numb; the explosions of traps and beam weapons seemed to have left permanent spots on his vision, faint purples and blues that would not be blinked away. His shoulders and back were stiff and he could feel his legs twitch when he was hit…but he was beginning to understand the rifle more. He could hit once and twice perfectly, then a miss, a hit, two misses, a hit, three misses, a hit. He knew this pattern, though he couldn't think of it, it was familiar somehow. He even started to use the misses, aiming for a cluster of enemies or a particularly large target when he was sure he was going to miss. He finished the fifth sector and pressed the button for the sixth, his fingers trembling slightly. The view shifted to a pine forest and a map appeared. Thirty targets here, he guessed. Thirty-five, but a shorter distance, it seemed, so it would be easier, quicker. He checked his weapons but found he couldn't bring them up. A glitch? Frowning, the boy pressed the controls forward but the forest around him remained frozen.

"If both parties are agreed," Kurosawa's voice sounded right in his ear, startling him badly. "There will now be a five minute break."

"No," said the boy, or tried to. His voice came out in a barely audible croak. He licked his lips and wet his throat and tried again. "No. That is not acceptable. I'm ready to continue." He couldn't stop now! He was so close to figuring out this pattern, what it meant. He knew he had seen it before.

"I understand your dedication." It was Dr. J this time and the boy found himself listening closely. "But if you don't take a break and get some fluids in you, I'm afraid you aren't going to last."

"No, I can make it! I know I can!" the boy said. This was a test. It had to be a test. They were just trying to see if he would stop, but he wouldn't. He wasn't finished yet! Another pause, and then:

"My boy, there is a fine line between strength and stupidity," Dr. J said, but lightly. "I suggest you take the opportunity to rest when it's given to you."

Stupidity? The boy bristled at that, his fingers clenching around the controls. He wasn't stupid. But…but he was thirsty and maybe…maybe Dr. J was right. After all he hadn't called him stupid really, had he? Just said there was a fine line. Anyway, Kurosawa had said 'if both parties were in agreement' which meant she wouldn't have any advantage.

"Fine," he conceded, annoyed.

"You may now remove your helmets," said Schtoltz. The boy did so, surprised to find his arms trembling and winced at the sudden harsh brightness of the room. It seemed strange to him somehow, the plain walls, the solid floor. He'd half expected trees and dirt and sky.

He set his helmet carefully on the stool and then began to peel off his gloves. Beside him, Mitsuyo was helping Hana with her helmet and her gloves, then shoved a bottle of water in her hands, but not before the boy saw him slip three red pills into her palm. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Dr. J, holding out a water bottle. The boy took it gratefully. At first his fingers were trembling too much to open it but finally he managed.

"Very impressive run, I must say," Kurosawa said, his voice sounding strangely hollow as it wasn't directly in the boy's ear. "Seven sectors, Mitsuyo-san," said Kurosawa and the boy stiffened. "Well done. Well done, indeed. Your aim could use a little work but your use of the beam saber is quite nice! So elegant! Such poise! It's a joy to watch you." Kurosawa looked at him then, hooking his bony fingers together as if longing for a clipboard to hold between them.

"As for you…er…boy, you are certainly quite unpredictable! Brilliant use of enemy units and blowing up ammunition storehouses was a stroke of genius, but you are behind I am afraid. The water that circulates through the rumor mill is that you were apprenticed, shall we say, to a certain Lowe-san." He paused in his rattling commentary as if waiting for an answer.

The boy drank his water and glanced away from Kurosawa. How he knew that and what he knew of Odin didn't matter. Whether or not the boy confirmed it would likely not matter either. If Kurosawa knew then he knew. If not, then the boy saw no reason for him to know. Even though Odin was dead, it still felt better to keep him secret.

"I didn't know the man, of course," Kurosawa continued after a moment. "But I heard, that is, they suggest, that he had superb abilities as a sniper. It's a pity none of that talent rubbed off on you." He laughed thinly, his voice echoing.

"Well he is just a child," Mitsuyo said. "You can't really expect any talent from him for another three or four years." A smirk crawled across the scientist's thin lips. Hana looked at him, then looked away, turning her helmet around and around in her hands. The boy narrowed his eyes. He had never trusted Mitsuyo but now he couldn't help but feel there was something going on. He glanced at Dr. J to gauge his reaction and the man tipped his head just slightly toward the door. The boy tucked his chin down a fraction in acknowledgment, then slid from the chair, taking a second to stretch. He needed to think of a good reason to go out into the hall without it seeming too suspicious.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" he said. He did faintly need to go and it would be nice not to be distracted by a full bladder. Kurosawa looked taken aback as if normal bodily functions were beyond him.

"Well…can it wait by chance?"

"No," said the boy.

"You should have gone before we started," Mitsuyo grumbled. The boy ignored him and raised his eyebrows at Kurosawa, shifting from one foot to the other to make a subtle point.

"Very well," the man said with a sigh. "You have three minutes."

The boy nodded and started toward the door. Dr. J started toward the door as well.

"Oh, I see," said Mitsuyo blandly. "How convenient, you going as well."

"I'm an incontinent old man, surely you wouldn't deny me the relief," Dr. J said without skipping a beat. The boy tried not to smile.

"It does seem a little…" Kurosawa said, wiggling his hands back and forth as if to indicate suspicious. The doctor shrugged.

"Unfortunately, the child has a small bladder and I a weak one. Don't worry; I won't slip him any energy pills while we're there." He seemed to look directly at Mitsuyo as he said this but it was hard to tell. Mitsuyo pressed his lips into a thin line and looked away.

"Three minutes then. Go and come back promptly," Kurosawa said, waving his hands. "And I certainly hope his bladder control improves should he get the Gundam!"

The boy ignored this as well and walked a little ahead of Dr. J as he left. Once they were in the hall with the door closed, he slowed to let J catch up with him.

"Dr. J," the boy started. "I think…I shouldn't have drunk so much," he said as J scratched his nose, briefly flicking a finger upward as if to indicate the security cameras overhead. Would Mitsuyo be able to access them so quickly? He didn't think so. Not with the simulation eating so much memory. But on the other hand there was no telling who else could be watching.

"I don't think I should have watched you drink," Dr. J said in a strained voice. "Let's hurry." It was a good excuse to pick up their stride. They reached the bathroom and the boy pushed the door open. Mike was standing at the sink, washing his hands and grinned at them as they came in. His grin faded as J jerked a thumb toward the door and the man nodded and left without even turning off the water. The boy twisted the faucet off and checked the stalls carefully for anyone who might be hiding.

"What's the problem?" Dr. J said, leaning heavily on his cane, his optics whirring softly as the lenses shifted. The boy wondered what he could see but quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn't important.

"Kurosawa said Hana's aim was off. How far off is it? Do you see any pattern?"

"None that I could detect. Of course I didn't focus solely on her so there could have been. However, she certainly landed more hits than you."

"I know I'm aiming right," the boy said, clenching his hand into a fist and lightly tapping it against the ceramic edge of the sink. At least this meant that whatever it was only happening to him which suggested more of a hack then a glitch. Whatever it was was slowing him down. She was a sector ahead of him already. He couldn't lose. He shouldn't be losing. If she got the Gundam, then… Then it would be a disaster. He knew it. He couldn't let her win. He couldn't lose this. He had never lost before. Not when it really counted.

"You suspect foul play?" J asked and the boy nodded. It had to be. He tried to focus on the pattern. It fluttered just on the edge of his memory. Where had he seen it before?

"Well Mitsuyo is not so technologically inclined," Dr. J said, squeezing his claw open and shut as if thinking. "And I am certain he doesn't have any of his personal staff here. Even those of mine with the skill that I might be able to believe were somehow bribed wouldn't be able to get so close to the simulation. The only person who could have done it is Schtoltz, but he's an incredibly honorable man."

"Howell?" the boy asked.

"Possibly," Dr. J's claw hand stilled and the lenses in his optics shifted again as if he was focusing on the boy. "I wouldn't blame you for suspecting him. He did work for Mitsuyo years ago and is too fond of that Domo boy. However, Howell was one of the first to recommend you for the Gundam so I don't think he would so easily betray you."

"He gave Domo the admin information for the network," the boy said. "Or Domo managed to steal it," he conceded, since there was really no proof Howell had given him anything. Just because they were friends didn't mean that he would, right? And if Howell had recommended him for the Gundam...maybe Dr. J was right. Maybe the only one to suspect was Domo. On the other hand, what if Domo was important enough for Howell to risk it? What if it was Howell that Mitsuyo had been talking to on the phone?

"In either case that is troubling news…" Dr. J said. The boy nodded, and since J didn't seem to want to say anymore, turned his mind back to the pattern. He took a leak since he was there and then went to wash his hands, turning the numbers over and over in his head. He had no more idea of what it could be as he turned the water off and together they went back out into the hall. The boy glanced briefly at the security cameras. Domo had access to them, too, he remembered. It had probably been Howell who had taught Domo the script for it, the boy thought. Howell liked to share what he knew with anyone who cared to listen. It was how the boy first started learning to program on Howell's…

Shooting game….

The boy suddenly remembered the code he'd found in Domo's files, the targeting coordinates…with the second algorithm that overrode the first one, that was where he knew the pattern from! And the second code only worked with green, the color of his targets! The boy's stomach clenched, though he was unsure whether it was from anger or excitement or both. Well, it didn't matter.

"Dr. J, what color are Hana's targets?" he asked, just to make absolutely sure.

"Red," Dr. J said, seeming startled by the sudden outburst. "But listen, my boy, this may be just a glitch—"

"Dr--"

"Or it may be a cheat designed as a glitch. If Howell did put it in there, he wouldn't be so obvious about it. He would find a way to hide it. If you point out the cheat and Schtoltz looks and finds nothing you are going to look even worse. He might find it if he cares to look again but by that time the damage will be done."

"So you're saying I shouldn't say anything?" the boy said. It was true what Dr. J said but…but what if he lost because of this anyway? What if he lost the Gundam? Could he really afford not to take the risk?

"It's your choice," Dr. J said, calmly. "Whether you risk it and fight or risk it and speak of your suspicions is completely up to you. The fate of the Gundam rests entirely on your shoulders."

The boy clenched his hands into fists, then folded his arms tightly across his chest, suddenly unsure. Could he take that risk? Could he win how he was? He was so far behind but could he find a way to make it? He had to make a choice and he had to make it soon but either option carried a big chance of failure.

"But what I would do," said Dr. J. "Is to try to find a way to beat the cheat and when the simulation is over, then voice your suspicions."

"But if I lose…" the boy started.

"Then don't lose." Dr. J grinned at him. "Win."

Without another word, the doctor went into the room and the boy followed him. Win. Could he win? The doubts nagged at him as he walked back into the simulation room. Kurosawa frowned at them.

"That was four minutes," he said.

"I had a blockage," said Dr. J. The boy glanced at Kurosawa, then Schtoltz. Should he tell them anyway? Should he make that risk? She was a sector ahead of him…a whole sector. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. No. This was an impossible situation but it wasn't the last impossible situation. There would be many more when he had the Gundam and he had to find a way to push past impossibility and succeed.

Butterflies danced in his stomach, feathery wings brushing his intestines. Mitsuyo said something but it wasn't important so he sat in the chair, taking one more sip of the water before pulling on his gloves, putting the helmet back on and settling his fingers on the grips. The piney forest surrounded him again. It wouldn't be bad. He knew the pattern. He just had to figure out a way to use it. He would win. He would win. He would win.

"Test recommencing in five seconds," said Kurosawa. "Four…three…two…one…" Losing was not an option.

The boy held the pattern in his head, testing it on the first few targets to see if it remained the same. Knowing it didn't make things efficient. Even if he could still hit something, if it wasn't the target then he was losing time. By the fourth target he suddenly realized that when he missed, he missed at the same degree each time. By the sixth target he had managed to adjust his aim so that he could hit even when he was slated for a miss. Then everything clicked into place. If he could hit whenever he wanted to, he wouldn't have to go so far into bases to begin with.

After that it became a matter of acquiring the target and destroying it, one after the other. He barely even took the time to fight the enemy units anymore unless they were in the way or interfered. Sometimes he didn't even have to go into the base. Target acquired, target destroyed, target acquired, target destroyed, one after the other after the other. Seventh sector, eighth sector. In the ninth sector the pattern changed, but once the boy figured out that it had simply reversed itself, he was back to speed. It was as if he had come apart from himself. He was only vaguely aware of the sweat on his forehead, the ache in his wrists. None of it was important. None of it mattered.

Tenth sector. Hana might be here. If she was still ahead she would be. If she destroyed even one target… He would worry about it when he got there. There were twenty-eight targets here. Twenty- seven. Twenty-six. Twenty-five. A munitions factory hit dead on took out three more. Twelve…eleven…ten… five...four …three…

The final target blinked green in front of him and the boy blinked back at it. It was a square, just a simple green rectangle floating in the clearing. The greenness of it slowly fading in and out. As he came closer he saw it looked almost like a door. The boy hesitated, then made sure his buster rifle was charging before pushing his mobile suit through.

The scene shifted. The blue sky turned black and became studded with stars, though there was a strange yellowy blob coming from the northwest which the boy couldn't identify. Otherwise a big roll of hill blocked his vision. The boy moved to the top of the hill and was looking into a valley filled with a city, the way the buildings followed the line of the hills made it look almost like a colony. A huge military base sat in the very center of the city. Four towers sitting around it were blinking green, as well as something in the center and something else, just beyond the base, half hidden by the jumble of buildings.

He charged down the hill, through the lines of dead streets and darkened windows. Lights came on in the windows as he ran, like his mobile suit was somehow charging the electricity. As he came to the base a wailing alarm ripped through the air. Enemy units boiled out of the gates, not even hesitating before firing. They were a little harder to kill and as he cut through the first one he caught a glimpse of a terrified face inside before the familiar explosion pushed him back. There were people in the other suits too as he destroyed them and screams sounded unrealistically from outside, as if people were peering out of their windows to look out at the battle and be terrified of it. Anyway he had killed too many pixelated people in Howell's shooting game to be really impressed.

It was harder, though. More mobile suits that had a complex mode of attack and some of their blasts actually hit and did damage. More than once his screen flickered and he lost one of his shoulder canons before burying the beam saber into the enemy unit's chest and ripping upward. The only thing that concerned him was the big flaming ball that was now burning its way through the—what was it called? Atmosphere. It was still at a distance but the boy could tell it wasn't blinking green. It wasn't a target that he was aware of. Maybe it indicated the end of the countdown but he had a good fifteen minutes left, enough time to take care of things.

The four outlying targets gone, the one in the middle taken care of though he hadn't been paying strict attention and nearly lost his buster rifle. That just left the one outside the base. The night scene was lit by the huge flaming thing that was coming in fast. It would take out maybe a quarter of the city when it hit but, strangely, if it kept going at the same speed it would hit long before the timer ran out. Maybe it represented a sort of sudden death. The recorded screaming got louder and mobile suits around him broke formation and began firing at it. The boy couldn't begin to understand what the hell this was all about but brushed it off and went toward the last target. It was a mansion with apartment buildings clustered around it. Even from here he could see faces peering out of windows, digital people running through the streets. Stupid. As if this could even compare to the real thing. He shot down his last target which exploded in a ball of savage red flames.

The simulation paused as if it didn't know what to do. The boy absently glanced at his weapons readout, seeing he'd nearly run out of bullets on his remaining shoulder canon. That was fine. He didn't need them much longer. In the continuing silence his ears began to ache, he became aware of the dryness in his throat and the damp clammy sweat in his palms having been trapped inside the gloves for so long. He shifted his weight in the seat, absently stretching out his legs. Just when he was starting to worry, another grid popped into the side of the screen. This one was red. If he stopped now there would be a tie but if he went onto Hana's grid, he would only need one target to win. He could do this. He would do this. The boy pressed the red square…

…and was transported back into the same place he had just left. The flaming thing was closer now, filling the cockpit with the flickering light. One communications tower remained to his left, blinking a hazy sort of red though it was hard to see through the glare and judging by the map, the house was there, too. There were screams here, as well, but over that, ragged breathing right in his ear.

"You…" Hana's voice. He couldn't see her on screen so he turned his mobile suit sharply and there she was. And in a way there he was. The firelight glinted off the familiar angles of her mobile suit, his mobile suit, Wing. The suit was damaged as his must be, seared and blackened in some places. This could be him…would be him, standing in the middle of all this chaos. His gut twisted, a strange nervousness in the pit of his belly. What was it?

"No! I won't let you win!" she screamed, hoisting the buster rifle. The boy saw the glow in the barrel and threw himself out of the way just in time, charging his own. The white light streaked past the place where he had been and something exploded. The red target for the communications array faded away. Damnit! There was only one target left! He started to turn toward it and suddenly she was right in front of him, beam saber arching through the air. The boy instinctively threw up the buster rifle to block it even as he pulled the mobile suit back. The beam saber cut through with a sharp searing hiss of metal and blinding light. He pulled away, the buster rifle started to whine, dangerously high. He threw it at her but she dodged and cut at him again and again, the beam saber sizzling through the air as she missed him, but she was getting closer and closer each time. Ten minutes were left.

A squadron of Leos seemed to notice them finally and bullets thudded through the air, ringing off his armor. There was a blip and he saw his second shoulder canon malfunction. Hana slashed the beam saber in a practiced upward movement and the boy just managed to pivot so the cut only just glanced off the chest piece.

"Stand still!" she snapped. He needed a distraction. He threw the remnants of the buster rifle at her and she cut it in half as if by instinct. It exploded. He took the moment to run right into the squadron and past them. Some of them turned and fired on him but he was fairly sure others were still firing on her, anyway, bullets didn't scare him. He pulled out his own beam saber. He would have to cut it down the hard way.

"Stop!" she screamed. And he did, twitching to the side as the blast of energy from the buster rifle tore up the road in great black furrows. He could see her, surrounded by Leos that had smaller beam weapons of their own that they were hacking at her with. The damage wasn't much and the way they were all clustered together, she could easily have taken out most of them with a swing of her own saber, but she hesitated. Had something in the suit malfunctioned? He didn't think so. After all the beam saber was raised but instead of striking she jumped back, tried to skirt around them. The Leos followed her. There was no time to be curious.

He headed for the target again, five minutes left. He caught a glimpse of the big ball of fire with something dark at its core a scant second before it slammed into the ground with the noise of a thousand cars crashing at once. The pain splintered in his ears.

Someone was screaming. He was pretty sure it wasn't himself even if his throat was raw. He opened his eyes, not aware he'd closed them and saw white. Was it over? His heart beat savagely against his ribs. Was the simulation over? Was he in a hospital? No…No he could still feel the gloves on his hands when he flexed his fingers. The controls were still there too. The screaming continued. Not him, then.

The screen flickered to life and he saw ruined buildings. The black core of the burning thing stretched into the sky a short distance from him, a curve of twisted metal that looked familiar somehow. He was still standing, the beam saber still clutched in his hands. The final target was still on the map. He had to get it before Hana did. He ran toward it, seeing the broken piles of rubble around him, almost smelling the acrid smoke that twisted through the air, the ash that looked like snow settling softly. It was just a simulation. As he came to the house, over the gate, he saw a pale young face staring at him from the upper window.

It was just a simulation.

He cut the house in half. The explosion caught him and he twitched instinctively. White again. Then black. He could still hear the screeching of the burning thing in his ears, the explosion; the screaming had gone though replaced by deep shuddering hitching breaths. He was content to stay in the black for a while but a warm hand on his shoulder made him spasm.

The boy took a moment, then uncurled his hands from the controls and slowly pulled the helmet off, squinting, feeling his hair plastered against his forehead and neck, damp with sweat. Dr. J patted him once on the shoulder and took the helmet from him. The room was silent, or maybe the boy just couldn't hear. He began to pull of his gloves, slowly, fingers numb and aching from exhaustion.

"No," Hana said. He looked at her and saw her hunched over; her hands fisted so hard her knuckles where white. Tears streaked down her pale face but her expression was livid. "No. No, it doesn't matter!" she looked at him, past him maybe to Kurosawa.

"It's…it's just a…simulation!" she said. I'm stronger physically than he is and I completed the st…stealth test and got more answers right on the test, you know I did!" She pointed a shaky finger at him. "You…you can't give the Gundam to a kid!"

"Exactly," Mitsuyo said. He folded his arms and tilted his head, the light glinting off his thick glasses. "My candidate is stronger than he is, physically and intellectually--"

"Though perhaps not mentally," Dr. J cut in. "The poor girl."

"Bah." Mitsuyo shook his head. "Anxiety jitters only that can easily be cured with the proper application of a sedative. As you can see the end results of my training program are--"

"Weak, over-medicated and easily manipulated," Dr. J said, sounding calm, almost amused. Why he should sound that way, the boy had no idea. But J was a scientist and, in the boy's experience, scientists were stranger than most. He settled back in his chair, spotting a bottle of water on the floor and picking it up, carefully twisting off the cap and watching blotchy spots of red appear on Mitsuyo's angular cheeks. Hana ducked her head down, keeping her fisted hands close to her stomach as if it hurt.

"That's slander!" Mitsuyo spat. "You've been against me since the day I decided to strike out on my own away from your ridiculous propaganda!"

"Since the day you decided to move from torturing animals with your chemicals to torturing children." Dr. J's voice was still light but it had gone flat. "But that is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is your candidate can't even begin to compete with mine and you know it."

"Ha you would like to think so!" Mitsuyo said, but he sounded more angry than confidant. "My program is flawless!"

"And have even one of your candidates spent any time out of your laboratory to see what the real world is like? To taste life for themselves outside of drugs and tests?" Dr. J's voice seemed to have an edge to it and the boy had the feeling this was starting to go past who had really won or not. He sipped his water and shifted impatiently.

"Gentleman, please—" Kurosawa started.

"Now who is being irrelevant?" Mitsuyo cut in. "The real point is; the point you are so cleverly trying to conceal is that that boy cheated." He pointed a finger at the boy for emphasis. His hand was trembling though, and his face, once red, went pale as if he knew he'd messed up. Hana clenched her fist tighter and her eyes narrowed as she looked over at him. The boy stood, putting the chair between them, just in case she tried anything.

"Oh really?" Dr. J said, with a smile. "I think you were the one that cheated, using Howell's affections for your lab rat to blackmail him into changing the parameters of the simulation."

"You…you have no proof!" Mitsuyo said.

"No, but I'm sure there is proof. I am willing to risk my reputation on it!"

"I demand a retrial!" Mitsuyo snapped, looking past Dr. J to where Kurosawa and Schtoltz stood. "It is the only way we will be able to determine who truly has the better skill."

"There will be no retrial," Schtoltz said in the flat tones of someone in charge. "If the boy did manage to cheat and bypass all our security measures without raising one alarm in the system, he is more talented than we knew and will be able to complete more difficult missions. Either way he won and he won impressively."

He'd won. He'd won. A feeling almost like anxiety twisted in his stomach. This was the last test, Kurosawa had said. The deciding test… So did that mean…?

"No." Hana stood, shakily, he saw a slight bulge in her shirt at her stomach and as she lifted it the glint of metal. "No I won't let him!" Hana made a sudden sharp movement. The boy shoved Dr. J out of the way and threw himself to the side as a gunshot exploded in the air. The bullet pinged off the floor somewhere. Hana found him, sighted and the boy dodged before she fired again.

"Stop this! Stop it right now!" Kurosawa screamed. It wouldn't do any good. The boy knew. He had to get it away from her.

"I won't let you win," she said, her voice raw. "I won't let it happen!" She swung the gun at him again. His hand reached back automatically but his own weapon wasn't there and he jerked himself to the side the moment he saw her finger twitch. This time there was a short scream and he looked back to see a spot of blood blossoming against Kurosawa's shoulder.

"Kurosawa!" Scholtz said, supporting the thinner man as he staggered back.

"I've been shot! I've been shot!" Kurosawa cried.

"Hana, stop this!" Dr. J said. Hana's eyes were wide, her entire body shaking. Mitsuyo said nothing. The boy wanted to see the scientist's expression but knew better than to take his eyes off Hana. She was still on guard. If he attacked her now he would be shot impulsively. He had to wait for just the right time.

"We have to get the medics! Someone!" Kurosawa is saying. Hana's expression changed, her mouth smoothing into a flat line, her eyes narrowing as if she recognized her own fate. As if she realized that now, she had nothing to live for. Shit. She glanced at him. He pushed off the floor and charged toward her. She startled and twisted the gun at him, firing off a shot that whispered across his arm. He slammed into her as hard as he could; knocking her into the chair she had been sitting on. The gun clattered somewhere on the floor.

He pulled himself off her to grab for it and she screamed and reached, digging her fingernails into his scalp and pulling his hair, jerking his head down. There was a sharp sudden pain as her knee slammed into his stomach, making sparks of white flash behind his eyes. He gasped and retched for breath, nearly falling as she shoved him away and went for the gun once more. He dove for it, slamming into the floor, and grabbing it away from her snatching fingers, then he wrenched around and shot.

Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open; blood trickled from her lip and streamed down her face from the hole in her head. Time slowed as she fell, gentle as a drifting petal, seeming to stare at him as she did, blue eyes pale as a summer sky, hands reaching out for him. Then in a blink she was on top of him, pressing him to the floor, head on his chest as if…as if she was using him as a pillow, as if she was just taking a nap with him. Something squirmed in him, twisted. He wanted to move and he wanted to stay at the same time. He gasped, coughed, tried to ignore the warmth that was seeping across his chest. The room was silent as if everyone had died at the same time and the boy had to look up to make sure…to make sure it wasn't true.

Dr. J was staring at him. Everyone was staring at him. He could feel their eyes but couldn't read their faces. He struggled to get out from under her but his strength had gone, disappeared somewhere and he whimpered hoarsely without even realizing it. Dr. J started for him but Mitsuyo cut him off, moving in front of him. The boy clutched at the gun, the unfamiliar grip resting awkwardly against his palm but the scientist wasn't even looking at him. The man knelt, reaching for Hana with trembling hands and slowly picked her up, cradling her to his chest and began passing shaking fingers through her blood soaked hair.

"My little girl," he whispered. "My little girl."

He had killed her. He had killed her like he killed everyone. It was a good thing, though, wasn't it? She would have killed him. Mitsuyo wasn't a bad man to begin with, right? Everything he put Hana through, Domo, Tatsu, that made him irredeemable. Still when the tears rolled down the scientist's face and he began rocking back and forth, the boy had to look away. How many other parents had held their children like that? Bad or good, people still…cared and it was his job to take that away… The boy got to his feet, leaving the gun where it was and went toward the door, one foot in front of the other, breath rasping, staring at the door—his goal. He needed to get away. To get out of here. To be anywhere else.

The hall was cool and silent as he went out into it and he walked down the long corridor, one hand against the wall, and listening to his own heartbeat in his ears. He needed to speak to Howell too and Domo as well. Would Domo care about Hana? He probably would. But…but it didn't matter. He needed to sort the threads of his life and cut them one by one so the Gundam wouldn't get entangled in it.

The boy stopped in front of the hangar and there was Wing, just how he'd left him, pinned to the wall, half done. The hatch was open as if it had been waiting for him. He rested his forehead against the glass, staring at it. Wing. With that Gundam…he could save people…but he would kill people, too, right? Wouldn't he have to? A hand on his shoulder and he started, feeling himself trembling and not knowing why. Dr. J looked down at him.

"Go on," he said.

"Bu…but…" the boy wanted to go and didn't want to go. The corners of Dr. J's mouth lifted.

"It's your choice, my boy. You can leave now or…" he looked up at Wing and the boy did, too. "…you can stay and fight."

"For peace," the boy said. The scientist nodded and after a moment, the boy went to push open the double doors. The hangar was empty except for two techies.

"Oh," said one of the techies, spotting him. It was Akira. The man adjusted his glasses and grinned. "Hey there, kid. We were just going to boot up the system and see how she flies with all the—my god is that blood?" The man started toward him, the boy stared at him, inwardly steeling himself for something though he wasn't sure what.

"Let it go," Dr. J said, gently.

"But," Akira started but J must have gestured because the techie backed off and with a final glance at the boy went back to his station.

"Might…might be the last time we get a chance for a while if what I hear about Heero's Army is true," said the other man with a nervous laugh as if he was trying to find something to fill the silence with. Heero's Army. The Hero's Army. The boy had a feeling he would have to take care of that, too.

But for now…

For now…

He looked up at Wing, which, slumped over as the Gundam was, seemed to look back at him. With a nod, the boy climbed into the cockpit. It smelled of leather and some sort of cleaner. He sat in the chair, which sank in a little, as if it was molding to fit him. His heart thudded dully in his ears.

"Ready when you are, kid!" said Akira.

The boy ran his fingers along the keys slowly, activating systems, the Gundam moaned, it seemed, as it began to flicker to life. He pressed the switch to close the hatch door and his heart jumped at the sound as whirred closed, a slight vibration trembled through the cockpit as it locked. A steady vibration began underneath him, around him, the machine humming a tuneless song that seemed to resonate even in his teeth and dance across his tongue.

He closed his hands around the grips as the main screen flickered to life. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself, he pulled back on the grips, feeling the slight change in pitch as the heavy arms of Wing rose on either side of him, working for him, working with him, together.

And he smiled, arms trembling, eyes wet. It was all right.

It was all right because had made it.

And he would keep making it until there was finally peace.

Because that was the ultimate goal, right?

No matter what happened.

----

----

Disclaimer:　グンダムウィングの貸与権があらないよ。 でも、たくさんお金があれば。。。

ウェストサイドはこのファンフィクを読んでくれてありがとう！　このファンフィクを読んだ皆さんもありがとうごじました！

Yes! He has Gundam! Let me show you it!

Is this the end?

No...

definitely not


	27. Wing Gundam: Part V

The boy sat in the small lunch room, eating cereal and watching techs straggle in, in ones and twos, aiming for the coffee pot in the small kitchenette. They gave him quick little glances if they saw him in his little corner, shadowed slightly by the television just overhead. He didn't glance back because when he did they would usually pick up their pace and either disappear into the kitchenette or leave the room entirely. It had been like this for three days now, ever since he got the Gundam. Won the Gundam. Everyone avoided him, dropping their voices to whispers when he was around. If they were forced to work with him they put on a professional front, some more strained than others. Even Mike had started to act differently. Once jovial and friendly he was now subdued and gave the boy wary looks as if he was afraid of him.

It made the boy uneasy. He didn't desire their friendship but they were building his Gundam. He needed to trust them. They might not do anything to sabotage the Gundam but they might try to sabotage him. The boy was on guard against it even as he was confused by it. They were the people he was fighting for, so didn't they have every right to sabotage him if they felt he wasn't the right one? Dr. J said not to worry about it. Dr. J said that people were just reevaluating him and they would get used to him in time and come to accept him. In the meantime, Dr. J had said. Just continue training and learning and let them come to their own decision. That was the best approach, the boy felt. It made sense. Still the boy kept the gun close to his side. For what, he didn't know. Even if they attacked him, if he shot them…well…what did he have to live for after that? All by himself he couldn't protect anyone from anything.

The boy sighed and spooned milk from his bowl and then drizzled it back in. Mitsuyo was gone too. Somewhere. Dr. J had told him not to worry about it. That Mitsuyo would be taken care of though what exactly he had meant by that, the boy couldn't tell. Then there was Howell and Domo too. He couldn't prove that Howell had done anything. Domo's laptop had disappeared from his room so, by extension, he couldn't prove that Domo had done anything either. That was another thing Dr. J had told him not to worry about. He was putting a lot of trust in Dr. J, the boy realized—but also that he had to trust someone.

He finished his cereal, draining the milk which was slightly sour but the last of it and wouldn't do him any harm. Then he sat, unsure of what to do with himself. It was too early yet to go to Wing. No one would be there, or at least not awake enough to start any real work. Maybe he could work out, or go see if Dr. J was in his office. The boy went to the sink, a techie was in there, Akira, making coffee and watching him from the corner of his eyes. The boy pretended he didn't notice and washed the bowl and set it to dry before going out into the corridor. Dr. J wasn't in his office and the tiny weight room was grey and quiet, the treadmill in the corner reminding him of Hana. It pressed heavily on him for some reason. It shouldn't. Hana's death wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last and it was stupid not to use the weight room because he felt guilty.

Still the boy left and found himself wondering to the med room. It was small but close enough to Wing's hangar to be useful in an emergency. There was a window in the door, too, but a small bar at the top and too high for the boy to look in, even on his toes. Instead he quietly opened the door. There was an old man lying on the bed. No, it was Domo, the boy realized with a startled blink. There was barely anything left to him he was pale and sunken in and seemed dead but for the machine hooked into him, slowly beeping with his pulse. Howell was there too, sleeping, arms crossed on the mattress pillowing his head and strands of blond hair were coming out of his braid. How long had he slept there, the boy wondered. And why? It couldn't be comfortable and sleeping next to Domo wasn't going to make him any better.

The monitors beeping increased slightly and Domo sucked in a rattling breath to cough it back out again but weakly, as if had barely any strength even to breathe. His eyes opened, dark brown and bright against the paleness of his face. The boy felt absurdly as if Domo had snuck up on him, catching him unawares, but tried not to let that show, instead folding his arms over his chest. A thin smile lifted the corners of Domo's mouth and his fingers twitched. Howell stirred, opening his eyes but looking away from the boy, instead running a narrow hand over Domo's pale bald head.

"Why do you hang on, sweetheart?" Howell murmured. Domo said nothing, didn't even look at Howell, instead just continued to stare at the boy as if it were a challenge. The boy stared back and soon Howell had turned to look at him too and straightened in surprise. There were bags under his eyes and he looked haggard as well, but he smiled in that small bitter way, as if Domo's personality was rubbing off on him.

"Hello, kodomo," he said. "Come to kill me?"

And in that moment the boy knew without a doubt Howell was guilty. For whatever reason Howell had programmed those bugs into the test and made the boy fight that much harder to win.

"No," the boy said, coming into the room and shutting the door. He couldn't say why he had come and so he didn't, instead he came to the bedside and stared down at Domo, flexing his fingers absently. He wanted to do something. Felt as if he should do something but he wasn't sure what to do. He had never seen a person die like this before. So slowly. He thought he would prefer to be shot in the head. Domo's smile seemed to deepen and he blinked in a slow way, as if he was trying to tell the boy something.

"I had to," Howell said, stroking Domo's head. "I couldn't let him go back to that. I couldn't let him die like that."

"I know," the boy said, because all of a sudden he did, and all of a sudden what Howell had done didn't matter. In the end he had the Gundam anyway. Still… "Stay away from Wing," he said.

"Of course," Howell said. "I plan to go back to L-3 and immerse myself in communications there. It's what I'm good at. What I'm best at, if truth be told. Nattering at people." Domo's smile shifted, so that it reached his eyes and it was an expression both familiar and one that the boy couldn't remember. He felt on the verge of understanding something. Something important. But he couldn't. Howell turned his attention on him.

"I'm—we're glad you have the Gundam. I want you to know. We knew you could." Here Domo snorted and Howell smiled and said. "Or at least we hoped." His smile faded and he looked away. "Hana's death was unfortunate."

All deaths were unfortunate, the boy wanted to say. Even Domo's. He was suffering, obviously and death would be easier to bear, the boy guessed. But Domo was intelligent—and even if he was as dumb as a brick, Howell still cared for him so that was enough reason not to die; yet he would anyway. The boy wished he could stop it somehow. He wished he had the power to shoot people back to life…but that definitely wouldn't save the colonies. The room was silent then, except for the beeping. After a moment Domo stirred weakly and grunted again, soft and insistent, fingers twitching as he glanced at Howell and then at something beyond him. Howell blinked at him a moment and then said:

"Oh right." As he turned away Domo rolled his eyes. Howell was soon back with Domo's laptop which he held out to Heero with the ghost of a smile back on his face.

"Sorry that I took it from your room. Domo wanted to put some programs in for you to learn with before it was…" he paused, seeming to choke on the words. His smile disappeared and came back again and his eyes became glassy and he blinked hard, shaking his head. The boy took the laptop, holding it under his arm and glanced at Domo who was still staring at him. He nodded then and started to leave but Domo said:

"Stay."

It was a whisper and the boy had barely heard it. When the boy turned back, Domo's eyes were closed as if even that small effort had exhausted him. The boy was unsure why Domo wanted him to stay. He couldn't do anything to help. It seemed illogical somehow. A misuse of resources. Still, there was no harm in staying, It wasn't as if he had something better to do at the moment. The boy looked around for a chair, and, finding none, perched on the end of the bed, kicking his feet idly at the metal bedpost. Howell glanced at him, then glanced away. Domo had his eyes closed for so long the boy thought he was asleep but then slowly he opened them again, watching him in a heavy lidded way. The monitor continued to beep in the stillness, something unidentifiable whirred and Domo took a deep breath.

Bored and a little restless, the boy settled the laptop on his knees and opened it, booting it up. It chimed pleasantly at the login screen. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Explore the programs, maybe. Really anything to keep his fingers busy. The wallpaper was still the same; that square big brown thing with teeth and beedy black eyes.

"What _is _that?" the boy asked. Howell chuckled softly.

"That," Howell said. "Is a Domo-kun."

"Oh," said the boy, glad to at least have a name. He filed it on memory just in case it popped up later.

"It's was a fairly popular kami in pre-colony Japan. It was supposed to bring good luck or money or frighten away evil, or something quaint like that- at least according to the packaging." Howell smiled and looked at Domo as if sharing some private joke. "Whatever it was it became fairly popular as a toy and ramen line in L-1, oh about seventeen, eighteen years ago."

Which would have made Domo about seven at the time, the boy guessed. Was Domo named after the kami or did he adopt the name himself? The boy didn't really know and didn't expect to know. It was an idle curiosity that in a few hours wouldn't matter anyway.

"I've been to Japan, you know," Howell said, talking, it seemed to some fourth party or maybe to himself. It was hard to tell sometimes. "It's beautiful," the scientist continued. "Gentle mountains, cities of metal and glass, thick green forests, beautiful ocean views..." He sighed deeply. "Don't get me wrong, the colonies are my home but there are some things that just can't be manufactured in the depths of space."

The boy had seen Earth, of course, pictures and movies from the linkup and in various classrooms. Even Odin had talked of it fondly once or twice. The boy had only gotten a real sense of it in Howell's test program. He wanted to go there some day. He would go there some day with Wing but then there would be shouting and bullets and death.

"I had hoped to take you there one day," Howell said softly, voice wavering, talking to Domo, obviously.

"Why don't you show him your simulation?" the boy asked, closing the laptop. It felt good to say. A simple equation. True there was a chance that all the equipment had been disconnected but it was likely still around and even then Domo could see Howell's version of Earth on the screen at least.

"It's too bulky to set up in here," Howell said, passing the heel of his hand across his face before blinking and smiling tightly. It wasn't too bulky. It could work, the boy thought, analyzing the room. Things could be taken out temporarily. Stuff could be rearranged. On the other hand that might take too much time. The boy looked at Domo who was staring at the ceiling. He wondered how many times Domo had done just this, staring at a ceiling with machines hooked into him- the steady, irritating beeping noise of the monitor reminding him he was still alive.

"So we'll take him to it," the boy said, tucking the laptop under his arm and sliding off the bed.

"Kodomo… We can't. Unhooking him—Moving him even that far--" Howell closed his mouth and tucked a strand of hair over his ear. Then he shook his head and shook it again.

"He's going to die either way," the boy said, annoyed that Howell couldn't see that.

"Yes…but….even just a few more hours…"

"Why?" the boy asked, not getting it at all. Was it a scientist thing? Howell being Howell? He didn't know. It didn't matter. It was frustrating. What did it matter if Domo died now or a few hours from now? Lingering deaths were stupid. That Domo was even dying was stupid. But stupid or not it was the truth.

"You wouldn't understand," Howell murmured, not looking at him, not even looking at Domo just staring at the sheets. "You're just a kid."

No he couldn't understand. Domo having the chance of seeing something beautiful before he died had more benefit then staring up at the ceiling and listening to Howell cry over him. The boy thought to argue the point but changed his mind. Domo didn't have the time. He would have to do it himself. The boy set the laptop on the floor, went over to the bedside and pulled the plug on the monitor. Howell shot to his feet.

"What are you doing! Stop!"

The boy ignored him, pulling the needle out of Domo's arm carefully. Domo looked at him and seemed to smile. His fingers curled against the sheets. Howell's face changed. The raw emotion in his expression made the boy look away.

"Oh, come on, then," Howell murmured. The boy stepped away as Howell shifted Domo into his arms and picked him up. Domo was taller than Howell and hung awkwardly but Howell didn't seem to have much trouble holding him. Domo's head was on Howell's shoulder, his forehead pressed against the scientist's neck. It was as if all the pieces had come together, the boy thought, unsure even of what he meant. Like he was seeing the whole picture. Something moved in him but the boy couldn't identify it and there wasn't time so he tried to forget about it and turned and lead the way.

The simulation room was empty when they came in. One chair had been taken away and the blood had been cleaned from the floor. It was always that way. He had killed people but he had never cleaned the blood away. He had never carried a corpse. Never sent it to the incinerator to provide fuel for the colony. He wondered if he should, one day- to see what it felt like; to understand.

Howell set Domo in the chair carefully then went to the terminal to set up the program. Fortunately the chair was inclined just enough so that Domo could lay against it and not slide off onto the floor. He looked wilted, dead all ready except for his eyes and the slight trembling of his fingers. Excitement? Fear? The beginnings of a seizure?

"Now would be a really stupid time to die, Domo," the boy said, not completely serious. Domo looked at him and grinned, looking just like he used to for all that his teeth were only a shade whiter than his lips.

"Tomohiro," he said. The boy blinked. A name, obviously. But whose? Domo's? Someone from Domo's past? A name that Domo was giving him? Maybe he was calling someone else. It was impossible to say.

"That's his real name," Howell said. "It's cute, isn't it? At first I thought it was fake because at that time there was this cartoon that was pretty popular. Something like Go Gettar? Or the equivalent? With kids in giant robots or something. I used to watch it once in a while but it came on too early and I--"

"Alec," Domo said. "Shut up." And even though his voice grated he managed to sound fond. It was weird. The boy didn't think he would ever understand. It was an adult thing, the boy realized. He picked the VR helmet off the stool, watching Howell work. After a moment he checked back on Domo to make sure the man was still conscious. He was, and staring at him as if expecting something. If it was a name, the boy couldn't give him one. If it was something else, the boy didn't know what it was.

"It's all ready," Howell said. The boy nodded and held up the helmet.

"Are you ready?" the boy asked. Domo nodded and mouthed: Good bye. The boy nodded slowly to acknowledge that he understood and carefully placed the helmet on Domo's head.

The boy could see Howell's world from the flatness of the computer screen. He remembered the hills sloping into a blue sea, the forest dappled with sunlight. There was a field of flowers the boy hadn't seen, white and red, trembling and bowing with the brush of unheard wind. There seemed to be someone sitting in the middle of the field. A dark haired child. Domo made a strange wheezing sound and it took the boy to realize it was a laugh.

"I told you I would," Howell said, sounding gently amused. The scene moved past the boy, through the forest. A realistic deer startled and bounded further into the gloom. Gradually the forest melted away and they seemed to be in some sort of valley, with mountains green and rugged in the distance. This area was familiar. The boy remembered crossing it a few times, usually under a hail of pitiful gunfire from several bases dotted along the curve of the valley. The bases had vanished. Only knot of houses gleaming in the distance showed any sign of human presence. It was as if Howell had changed the program just to show Domo.

"Is this Japan?" the boy asked. It looked similar to the pictures he'd seen but not similar enough. Howell smiled and shook his head.

"This is Scotland," he said. "Where I grew up."

The boy watched a while longer mildly interested as Howell began to give a sort of tour, explaining places he had lived and talking about what he'd done there. He seemed to be talking half to himself, half to Domo. The boy half listened, absently storing the information just in case he ever ended up there. Domo sighed, distracting him. It was soft and shuddering, seeming to thin before fading into nothing. Howell's voice cracked and he stopped talking, instead bent over, cradling his face in his hands. On the screen, the day slowly faded into twilight. The room was silent. Domo had stopped breathing, the boy realized.

He felt for a pulse on the inside of Domo's wrist but there was none. He was dead. Just like that. A second he was there and the next he wasn't. The boy pulled off the helmet. Domo's eyes were still open, halfway, as if the muscles in his face hadn't yet realized it. At any moment, the boy expected Domo to look up at him, but of course he didn't. There was nothing in him. It was just a body, a corpse, a store front mannequin, except with needle tracks in its arm. A sudden, searing flash of anger overtook him, making his hands shake. He wanted to _kill_ Mitsuyo. He wanted to put the gun to his head and pull so that brains and blood spatter the wall. He wanted to shoot again and again until blood covered the floor, red and gleaming in the light.

Except that he knew that he couldn't. The boy didn't even know where Mitsuyo was and Dr. J had all but said he wasn't to interfere and it wasn't _fair. _The boy fisted his hands at his sides, feeling helpless and hating it. He wanted to break something, to hurt something but there was nothing and no one here to deserve it.

So he stood, useless and angry and even that feeling faded after a while, leaving a cold stone weighing heavily in his chest. He set the helmet on the stool and listened to Howell cry and waited for something he couldn't name.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing but if I did I would make it a blockbuster with such good graphics that it would put Avatar to shame. Pop Culture reference, Oh yeah I went there.

Thanks to my lovely beta West Side and all my lovely reviewers! :) It's nice to know people still care.


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